Liberation
by evenstar101
Summary: Five years after the Final Battle, Hermione is kidnapped for a ransom that only Draco Malfoy can provide. What is that ransom and will Draco be willing to pay the price for his former childhood enemy? DM/HG, EWE, warning of abuse in first few chapters
1. Chapter 1

Liberation

"Welcome, welcome!" The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, eagerly pumped Harry Potter's hand, and then Hermione Granger's as he welcomed them into the magnificently decorated ballroom.

"It is such a pleasure to have you here tonight. Especially you Ms. Granger, for you are the guest of honour!"

"Thank you Minister, but of course without the Ministry endowments and private donations this night might never have come. I can't thank you enough for your unwavering support in building the new Paediatric Hospital," Hermione smiled warmly at the Minister before Harry took her gently by the elbow and ushered her into the room.

For the last five years since Harry defeated Voldemort, Hermione had completed her training as a Medi-Witch and had dedicated her life to opening a wing of St. Mungo's that focused solely on the needs of children. The hospital was eager to implement Hermione's plans, but funding was of a main concern. The hospital was already struggling financially, and part of Hermione's plan included providing healthcare free of charge to low income and orphaned children who might not otherwise have access to healers. The Wizarding hospital relied on several outside benefactors just to stay afloat as it was, and Hermione did not want to see healthcare to become expensive, especially for those who could not pay. Now that the money had been raised to open the wing, grants would have to be written every year to supplement the hospital's income, and a benefit would be held each year as well. That evening Harry and Hermione were attending the first such benefit, and it would be followed by the ribbon cutting at the new wing.

Couples were already swaying gracefully over a highly polished dance floor. Hermione breathed in awe at the lovely dress of all the women. She had never seen so many elegant people in one place before. Hermione surreptitiously glanced down at her own frock, a lovely jade sheath made of flowing chiffon that draped over one shoulder, clung to her curves, and hung gracefully to her ankles. Her long hair was pulled into an elegant twist and held in place with a silver hair comb that was studded with diamonds and emeralds. It was the most expensive and beautiful thing she owned, and Harry had given it to her especially for the event.

"Hermione, you look stunning," Harry breathed into her ear as he watched her glance self-consciously at her attire, "you always do. Look, there's Ron and Pansy."

Harry pointed to the couple who were dancing closely at the edge of the dance floor.

"I can't believe they're engaged," Hermione breathed, "but they really are perfect for each other. I still can't believe I ever thought Ron was right for me."

Harry could not agree with her more, but he wisely kept his mouth closed. Instead he wrapped a protective arm around her waist and led her to their table at the head of the room. Since the war had ended, Harry and Hermione had grown increasingly close seeking solace from each other, but never a relationship. They both used the excuse of work as a reason for not pursuing relationships with others, but that was only true for Hermione. Harry _was_ busy with work being very near the top in his department, but he had wounds that would not heal. Ginny had lost her patience with him years ago and had moved on, and only Hermione knew how much that had actually hurt Harry. He was afraid and Hermione understood, but she wished he would give love a chance. Hermione knew that Harry would gladly engage her in a relationship but she wouldn't allow it, and he quietly acquiesced. As it stood, they were each other's stand in dates for any event that might require one.

Pansy noticed Harry and Hermione watching them and gave a small wave. Ron reluctantly broke apart from her and walked toward Harry and Hermione's table.

"This is quite some event, isn't it?" Ron declared gesturing toward the dance floor and then the stage.

In the front, next to the podium, was an enormous plaque with the list of public and private benefactors for the hospital engraved upon it. Among them were the estates of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore, who Draco Malfoy and Minerva McGonagall managed respectively. Hermione imagined that both men would have heartily approved of donating to such a cause.

"Hermione, are you nervous?" Pansy asked, "I absolutely love your gown. I told you green would suit you."

Hermione smiled and allowed Pansy to lead the rest of the way to their table so that Ron and Harry could catch up. Hermione wasn't sure if she would ever be really close to Pansy, but she did consider her a friend and was pleasantly surprised at her ability to change and let bygones be bygones. Hermione adored how she made Ron feel, but she was still too gossipy and girlie for Hermione's tastes.

"I am glad you talked me into it," Hermione replied kindly, patting her dress down.

"Are you nervous to give your speech?" Pansy asked again as she flagged a waiter with a tray of champagne over.

Hermione quickly took a long drink of the sparkling liquid before nodding, "I am nervous. There are so many leading medical researchers here. I don't want to embarrass myself. And so many rich people too, that I feel out of my element."

"Well, you'd have to be rich at two hundred galleons a plate. Although, this is quite lovely. I used to abhor events like these when I was younger but now I quite enjoy them. Oh, Draco's just arrived, I must go say hello." Pansy excused herself and made her way toward the entrance.

Hermione turned in her seat to see Draco hand off his cloak to the wizard in charge of the cloak room. He then very politely took off his date's cloak and passed it on as well. Hermione studied the woman with feigned indifference. She was a typical Draco Malfoy date, tall, blonde, probably American or French, and exquisitely beautiful from her perfectly coiffed hair to her manicured toes. Draco Malfoy was an enigmatic man in all ways but his taste in women. Hermione had seen him with many women that all looked similar, but none of his relationships seemed to last. Apparently blonde and beautiful was his comfort zone, but Hermione often wondered what held him back from finding a keeper. He publicly renounced his old ways, and had personally seen to it that his own father received a life sentence in Azkaban, and he ran a very successful antiques and rare artefacts business. He was often featured in the Wizarding media for finding something rare, or for selling something in auction for a ridiculous sum. He'd also donated a sizeable chunk of galleons from his personal account to the new wing, along with the donation he'd sent from Severus Snape's estate.

"I see Pansy saw Draco arrive," Ron commented as he sat down heavily in the chair next to Hermione.

Hermione just nodded again finding it very difficult to speak. Her impending speech had her stomach twisting in knots.

"Who's he with tonight?" Harry asked taking a sip of Hermione's drink.

"I believe Pansy said her name is Eliza Hamilton," Ron replied.

_Ahh, so not French,_Hermione thought.

Ron continued, "She's doing a semester abroad at Merlin's Magical University, but I think he said she goes to Salem normally."

_American then,_Hermione confirmed her earlier suspicion. She was familiar with the school, having done a semester abroad on the Massachusetts campus herself.

"So, the usual then, eh Ron?" Harry joked about Draco's date.

Ron laughed but Hermione interjected.

"She's probably brain dead," Hermione quipped sarcastically not really knowing where the snide remark came from. She never cared one jot before what Draco's dates were like and didn't see any particular reason to start caring then.

"Nah, supposedly this one is better. She's a magical history major and Draco's been dating her for almost a month," Ron replied finishing of Pansy's champagne and flagging down another.

"Eh, who cares?" Harry replied eager to change the subject. Hermione was still watching Draco's date with a hint of an angry gleam in her eye and he did not like the implications one bit. Hermione, for one, did not even realise she was doing it. "Are you alright Hermione?"

Hermione snapped her attention back to Harry. "Of course, I'm just a little queasy. If you'll excuse me I am going to visit the ladies before I have to give my speech."

"Certainly," Harry replied standing up as Hermione left. Ron politely stood up as well and Hermione inwardly smirked. Pansy had been teaching Ron class, a feat Hermione once believed to be impossible.

Hermione smiled politely and greeted many important people on her way to the loo; her nerves increasing more and more with each dignitary she met. The last five years of her life had been dedicated to the sole purpose of providing healthcare for children, and she was star struck by all the faces of people whose research and accomplishments had inspired her own. Hermione passed Pansy, who was still chatting with Draco and his date near the door.

"Leaving so soon, Granger?" Draco asked a little sarcastically as they neared.

"Be nice," Pansy admonished playfully.

Hermione gave Draco and his date the same nervous smile she'd given everyone else she'd greeted that night. "Just going to freshen up before my speech, Malfoy."

Hermione waited for him to make some sort of reference to there being nothing she could possibly do to 'freshen up' since she was so permanently dirty, but of course no comment came. Draco had not made fun of her blood status in more than five years, but for some reason she always expected it. Draco discreetly observed Hermione from head to toe and made a mental note of appreciation, but he made no move to introduce his girlfriend. It was as if he had forgotten she was there even though his arm was wrapped firmly around her waist. Eliza cleared her throat gently, finally capturing Draco's attention.

"Please forgive me, Hermione Granger, this is Eliza Hamilton."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hermione replied shaking the woman's hand. She was very tall and tan despite it being February. Hermione was reminded for the second time that night that she was not a 'girlie girl' and fought back a stab of jealousy. The next morning Eliza would probably wake up as sleek and gorgeous as usual, while Hermione would wake up with a mad tangle of plain brown hair matted to her head, raccoon eyes, and dragon breath. Eliza would most likely wake up next to Draco, while she would most likely wake up alone. Hermione briefly entertained the thought of propositioning Harry, but quickly quelled the idea.

"Likewise. I have heard many wonderful things about you," Eliza replied kindly.

Hermione immediately warmed up to the woman despite her stunning beauty. Around them, however, people were being shepherded slowly to their seats signaling to Hermione that if she was going to make it to the bathroom; it would have to be right away.

"That's very kind, perhaps we can talk later?" Hermione said edging way. Eliza nodded eagerly and waved as Hermione made her way out of the ballroom, finally.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that the ladies room was empty. She quickly used the loo, and used her wand to retouch her hair and makeup. For a full minute Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror, but the longer she looked, the more nervous she became. Taking a deep breath, Hermione left the bathroom and walked to the front door of the building. Perhaps a bit of cool, fresh air would calm her nerves enough to get through the speech. When Hermione stepped outside she was pleasantly surprised to see a fresh layer of clean new snow covering the ground. Large white flakes were falling heavily from the sky and the brightness of it made any outdoor lighting unnecessary. Hermione pulled out her wand to cast a repelling charm on her body so the snow would not make her wet when a strong arm wrapped around her, frightening her, causing her to drop her wand, and before she could even utter a scream, her captor apparated them away.

Hermione's wand fell silently to the ground and was quickly covered with a smooth layer of freshly fallen snow.

Meanwhile, in the ballroom, all the guests of the benefit were seated at their tables listening to the director, Susan Mainwaring of St. Mungo's, give the welcoming speech. Harry looked around him worriedly wondering what was taking Hermione so long. He hoped desperately that she hadn't buckled under the pressure and done a runner. It would be completely unlike Hermione to do something like that, but stress could do strange things to people.

"…and of course none of this would even be taking place tonight if weren't for the dedication and determined hard work of Hermione Granger. The Arianna Dumbledore Paediatric Ward is the brainchild of Ms. Granger and due to her unwavering perseverance she saw it to fruition. Whilst pursuing a Master's level certification in Magical Medicine Hermione wrote the grants and propositioned the right people to see the ward built, and we are now honoured to have her as the Head Healer in charge of the new ward. Not only is she of course the first Head Healer of the ward, but she is also the youngest in St. Mungo's history."

The crowd applauded warmly as the director paused in her speech. Ron nudged Harry and gave him a 'Do you see her?' expression and Harry shook his head no, feeling even more apprehensive. By that point even Pansy was scanning the crowd, a look of concern gracing her features.

"Without further ado," Susan Mainwaring continued, "please give a warm welcome to our guest of honour, Ms. Hermione Granger!"

A magical spotlight immediately lit down upon the seat that was supposed to be Hermione's. Harry was clapping uncertainly along with the crowd, but after a moment the applause died out and a few people started whispering.

Susan scanned the room quickly before announcing Hermione again. After a moment, she announced her a third time. By that point the whole room was speculating on what happened to Hermione. Harry quickly got up and walked up to the stage gesturing for the director to lean down and talk to him.

"Where is Hermione?" Susan demanded angrily.

"I don't know! She left to freshen up and never came back. This is very unlike her. Stall, have the Minister give his speech, I am going to go look for her," Harry said his ire rising and his Auror mode turning on.

Harry turned abruptly from the stage and motioned for Ron to follow him, passing Head Auror Dawlish's table they signaled for him to follow as well. Draco watched with mild amusement as the three quickly left the ballroom. _Granger's finally cracked,_he thought to himself. But it would not be truthful if he said he wasn't just a little concerned. Even Draco knew Hermione would never miss the opportunity to experience this moment, no matter how nervous she was. The crowd affably quieted as Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up to give his speech instead.

Once outside the ballroom, Harry immediately gave orders to Ron and his boss. Normally Dawlish would not have approved, but this was unofficial business, Harry was a rising star, and he knew that Harry was in love with Hermione and had seen her last.

Let's split up. Ron, you check every ladies room in this hotel. Dawlish, you go to the desk and see if she checked into any room, I am going to go to her house and see if she is there. I will be right back."

Harry didn't wait for agreement he just rushed off to the lobby's Apparition point and disappeared. He Apparated directly into Hermione's flat, but it was quiet and dark. The only sound was the mewling of Crookshanks who was clearly displeased with the loud crack of Harry's arrival. Seeing it was just Harry and not his beloved human, Crookshanks rolled back into a ball and fell asleep again. Harry ran through the house calling for Hermione, knowing full well she wasn't there. Spinning in a circle as if that would inspire him, Harry Apparated to his own house just in case she went there instead, but he was met with the same results.

When Harry arrived back at the benefit, Ron and Dawlish were waiting by the Apparition point.

"No luck, mate," Ron said before Harry could even ask, "we even looked outside, but there is so much snow we can't even see footprints."

Harry growled in frustration, his heart beginning to burst with worry. It'd been ages since he'd felt such gut wrenching trepidation and he was not welcoming it.

"Well, let's go outside again," Harry said racing for the exit doors. They burst out of them nearly knocking over Draco, who was leaning against the building smoking a cigarette and watching the snow fall.

"Draco did you—"

"No, Potter, I didn't see her. Any clue where she might have gone?" Draco asked with an air of indifference.

"No," Harry said curtly as he and Dawlish started casting spells looking for her magical signature, but there were too many witches and wizards about to make it useful. Ron was melting the snow around them looking for clues.

"Harry," Ron said as he bent down to pick up something he'd revealed, "I found her wand."

Harry and Dawlish ran over to Ron and inspected the wand. Priori Incantatem revealed the last spells to be the Impervious charm and a freshening charm.

"So she did go to the bathroom," Harry confirmed, "she must have stepped outside for some air and then whatever happened next, happened here."

Harry walked in a slow circle around the spot where Ron found Hermione's fallen wand. Dawlish put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"She would not have just gone anywhere without her wand. Something bad has happened to her," Harry said desperately, his ability to think clearly being clouded by the whirlwind of possibilities swirling through Harry's head, none of them positive.

"Let's go to Headquarters so that we can begin an official investigation. Mr. Malfoy, will you please let the Minister and Director know that Ms. Granger's gone missing? Tell them to keep her disappearance quiet, have them tell the crowd that she has ironically fallen ill or something, we don't want chaos in there," Dawlish instructed.

Draco nodded and disappeared into the building as the Aurors left for the Ministry.

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When Hermione and her captor arrived at their destination she was thrown unceremoniously across the room. Hermione landed with a hard thump on a cold stone floor. The smell of decay and mould burned her nose and made her stomach churn.

"Accio wand," her captor growled, his voice echoing around what felt like a vast room.

"I don't have it. I dropped it," Hermione whimpered.

Hermione screamed as pained ripped through every nerve ending in her body. From her hair follicles all the way to the skin beneath her toenails she was aware of the fire in each and every one. Nobody forgets when they are being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione's body twisted and contorted uncontrollably as the curse racked through her.

"I didn't tell you to speak, girl."

Hermione went limp as the curse was lifted; the residual ache from the spell causing her muscles to twitch involuntarily as she lay on the floor. Hermione snapped her mouth shut for fear of inadvertently making any sort of noise her captor might misconstrue as speech. Whoever it was cast a Lumos charm, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at the light.

Her captor walked closer to her and looked down on her, the light from his wand illuminating his face eerily. Hermione stifled a gasp as she recognised the face of her captor.

"From now on, you're going to be a good Mudblood and do what your told, and then maybe, just maybe, when I get what I want, I'll let you live."

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**A/N: This story obviously does not start out as a Dramione but it will get there. I hope you all enjoy, and please review, it is very helpful.**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I make no money from this

**Liberation**

**This chapter is dedicated to sleepingbutterfly and blueskyshymoon08 who are both previous readers and reviewers of mine. Thanks guys for sticking with me!**

Chapter 2

"Harry," Ron stood over Harry, who was bent over a pile of folders, each containing the dossier of a criminal wanted by the Ministry. Many were Death Eaters that had thus far evaded capture after the war. Hermione had been missing for almost twelve hours and Harry had yet to come up with a lead on who might be after her. He wasn't even sure it was Death Eater related, and if it was, Harry could not come up with an explanation as to why they would wait five whole years before acting again. The question Harry most wanted answered though was, why Hermione? What could she have possibly done to be kidnapped? For Harry was convinced that it was kidnapping, she would never leave like that, especially without her wand.

"Harry!" Ron repeated even louder. Harry jerked his head away from the file and focused on Ron's face. The sudden shift in his vision made Harry's grotty eyes burn, and he rubbed them as they watered and refocused.

"Sorry, Ron. Did you get some rest?" Harry asked as he closed the most recent file he'd been looking at with a slap.

Ron shrugged. "A bit. You really ought to go get some rest yourself. You've been here all night without a scrap of news. Go home for awhile and sleep. We'll get you if anything happens."

"I couldn't rest if I wanted to, Ron. Did you check back at Hermione's house? Her parents?" Harry asked tiredly.

"Yeah, on my way here. She's at neither. Her parents don't know she's missing. I didn't want to worry them unless it was absolutely necessary." Ron replied. "At least go home and get something to eat. Dawlish is back, and I'll stay here with him. Take a break, Harry, we'll be here."

Harry stood up from his chair and stretched. He'd been perched in the same spot for almost eight hours. The time had flown by for Harry because each minute Hermione was missing was another minute in which he didn't know what was happening, and each minute was one too many. Sitting on Harry's desk was a picture of Ron, Hermione, and Harry that was taken at Harry's last birthday. Hermione was smiling and waving at the camera happily with one hand, while the other was wrapped around Harry's shoulders. _I should at least shower and eat, _Harry thought, _I won't do her any good in this state._

"Okay, Ron, I'll stop at Dawlish's office on my way out and let him know."

Harry found Dawlish in his office slowly sorting through his early morning post. Harry knocked lightly once to get his attention before entering.

"So, no news through the night?" Dawlish asked unnecessarily. Harry looked unwell and Dawlish needed him refreshed if he was to be of any use at all.

Harry picked up Dawlish's nameplate from his desk and flipped it over in his hands. "No. I'm heading out for a bit, but I'll be back in about half an hour."

Dawlish nodded his approval and continued to flip through the mail before stopping at a black envelope. He looked at it curiously for a moment before opening it. Harry wasn't paying attention to Dawlish, nor had he made an effort to stand up to leave. He was simply reading the plate, _James Dawlish, Head Auror,_ over and over again. Harry's boss read the letter inside the black envelope twice before letting out a long whistling breath.

"What?" Harry asked eagerly.

"You'd better read this." Dawlish handed the letter over with a slightly shaking hand. The letter was written on dark grey parchment with dark red ink.

_Head Auror James Dawlish,_

_I have in my possession, Hermione Granger, who is no doubt of great value to your Ministry, and as a war hero, the Wizarding World._

_You have in your possession, Lucius Malfoy, who is in kind of great value to _MY _Ministry. If you wish for me to return the Mudblood to her loved ones, alive, then you must quietly bring to me, Lucius Malfoy. _

_You have forty-eight hours to prepare for the exchange at which time you will receive notice of the location and any further terms._

_Failure to release Lucius Malfoy from prison will surely result in a gruesome and horrific death for your precious Hermione. Choose wisely._

_Putus Cruor Confuto_

All the air left Harry's lungs. He could feel his throat closing around the word wishing to escape his lips, _Hermione. _A ransom such as that could never be paid for Lucius was one of the few Death Eaters they had managed to catch. And because of that, the remaining Death Eaters on the outside wanted him back.

"Putus Cruor Confuto?" Ron said aloud. Harry jerked his head around. Ron had come up behind him and read the letter of Harry's shoulder. Harry hadn't even heard him come in because his blood was still pounding in his ears.

"It is shoddy Latin, but it loosely translates to 'Pure Blood Supreme.'" Dawlish responded. "Presumably Death Eaters operating under a new name." Dawlish replied taking the letter out of Harry's stiff hand. Harry closed his eyes just as Dawlish cast an Identification charm on the ink. He could hear Dawlish suck in his breath and Ron's loud gasp.

"What?" Harry asked still not opening his eyes.

"It's not ink, Harry. It's blood." Ron said with a shaky voice.

"Whose?" Although in his heart, Harry already knew the answer.

"Hermione's" Ron breathed.

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_12 Hours Earlier_

"So you recognize me, don't you?" Hermione's captor circled around her as she continued to lie on the floor twitching from the after effects of the curse. "Do you remember me? Or is it just because my face is plastered on Wanted posters across Wizarding Europe? Stand up."

Hermione slowly rose to her feet, fighting to control her trembling muscles. The man before her was hideous as he stared down at her breathing heavily through his mouth. His face was scarred, his dark hair lay in dank clumps around his face, his breath was rancid, and his teeth brown and broken. He took a step closer to Hermione and the putrid smell of his breath wafted through her nose making her eyes water. He slowly unsheathed a shiny silver dagger from a holster under his sleeve. Hermione's stomach heaved as he slowly slid his tongue along the length of the polished steel.

"I met you for the first time ten years ago, but I was wearing a mask, so you might not remember my face but I gave you something that day, a permanent reminder of me. And it's right here," He traced the tip of the dagger across Hermione's chest from her left shoulder downward across her chest, finally stopping just below her right breast. It was there that he stuck the knife in about half an inch and twisted. Hermione gasped involuntarily with pain. He'd traced a perfect path across the scar that was the result of a curse she'd received from a silenced Death Eater in the Department of Mysteries her fifth year.

"What is my name?" He asked twisting the knife again but not sticking it in any deeper. "WHAT'S MY NAME, MUDBLOOD?"

"Dolohov!" Hermione cried, "Antonin Dolohov."

Hermione was unable to control the fear that was flickering across her tear filled eyes. Dolohov yanked the knife out of her ribcage and stood up straight in front of her.

"That's right. You're afraid, that's good. It will make things more fun for me. But don't worry; I won't kill you for at least a few days. There are plenty of things I can think of to do with a pretty little Mudblood like you to keep me entertained. But first," he conjured a small table with a quill and piece of dark grey parchment, "you are going to write a letter for me."

Dolohov grabbed Hermione by the hair and pulled her to the table. He picked up the quill and thrust it in her hand. She looked at the quill dumbly and then at the parchment. There was no ink.

"You're a smart little Mudblood, I hear. I imagine you are looking for ink. I prefer this letter to be written in red. I'm sure you can find some somewhere." He stuck the knife back in her ribs this time a little deeper, ripping her beautiful gown open in the process. Hermione felt a fresh stream of blood slide down her ribs. She clamped her teeth on her tongue to bite back a cry as the realisation of what he wanted her to do hit her. Hermione closed her eyes tightly and dipped the quill as shallowly as she could in the cut on her ribs, but it still stung as the dirty quill absorbed the blood. When she opened her eyes she schooled her face into a blank mask and held the quill ready over the parchment.

"I want you to write, 'Head Auror James Dawlish…'"

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Harry snapped his eyes open after Ron confirmed that the ink was indeed Hermione's blood. "What are we going to do? We can't just hand over Malfoy, but I can't let Hermione be tortured and then killed by some madman! Why her?"

"That's easy, mate. She's an important member of our society. Whoever this is obviously thinks that losing her is worth giving up Malfoy." Ron said calmly.

Harry slammed his fist on Dawlish's desk knocking over his cup and sending quills and parchments flying. "Why haven't we caught these people already!" He yelled in frustration. "We've had five years to find all of Voldemort's supporters! Where are they hiding?"

"Harry, calm down!" Dawlish said standing up and putting a restraining arm on Harry who was about to storm out of the office. "You are not doing anyone, particularly not Hermione, any good ranting and raving like that. Go home, eat, shower, and then come back and we will formulate a plan. Ron, go with him to make sure he does what I say."

Ron nodded and led Harry out of the office. Harry allowed himself to be steered out of the building as the full weight the situation rested heavily in his gut. Hermione knew what the ransom was and Harry was fully cognisant of the fact that she would rather die than see Lucius get released. By now, she'd probably already come to the conclusion that Ministry would agree with her and was patiently awaiting her death. Hermione would consider her life a small sacrifice to keep hundreds safe from the wrath of Lucius Malfoy and his Pureblood supremacist friends. Ron shook his head sadly at Harry who still hadn't said anything since his outburst before taking him by the arm and apparating them Grimmauld Place.

Ten minutes later Harry and Ron were seated at the kitchen table each with a large plate of eggs, bacon, and crumpets, in front of them. Harry took a bite of his eggs but they felt like rubber in his dry mouth.

"We'll figure something out, Harry." Ron said after a large mouthful of bacon. Nothing seemed to dull that man's appetite. "We just need to clear our heads and think."

"How can you be so calm?" Harry spat. "It's Hermione, Ron. Hermione. She means everything to me."

"I know that. I love her too, which is why we need to be calm and balanced. We cannot allow our emotions to cloud our judgment or make us irrational. That's the first rule of the Auror's code and you know that."

Harry scowled at Ron. He didn't understand how the man could be so circumspect. But he was right and Harry knew it. Harry forced a few more bites of egg down his throat before heading to his bathroom for a shower. He fished in his medicine cabinet for an invigorating draught while he waited for the water to heat up. Once inside the shower the hot water and draught had the desired effect as his mind cleared and sharpened.

"Focus Harry." He said aloud. "We just need a plan, some sort of ruse that convinces the kidnapper he's getting what he wants so that hopefully he will release Hermione."

As Harry scrubbed the previous days grime off his body his ideas became more focussed, and by the time he'd rinsed himself clean and dried himself off, he was convinced that he had a plan that might work. The only thing it would require was cooperation from the one person who would be least likely to give it. With renewed energy, he finished his shower and raced down the stairs to Ron, who was waiting patiently in the sitting room.

"Come on, Ron. I have an idea." Harry didn't wait for a response; he just grabbed some floo powder out of the pot on the mantelpiece and threw it in the fire.

Ron followed close behind all the way to Dawlish's office. Gawain Robards, former head of the Aurors but now head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was there with his right hand man, Alastor Gumboil. Also in attendance were the Auror's, Goren Proudfoot and Eric Munch, the latter having just joined the Department a year previously.

"Harry, you look much better. I am sending Munch and Gumboil to Azkaban to question Malfoy on who might still have a pressing interest in him after all these years. Hopefully, he will have some information that will be useful to us—"

Harry cut his supervisor off with a sharp wave of his hand. "I have an idea. I'd like you to hear me out before you send anyone off to Azkaban, particularly because I don't want Malfoy to know what is going on."

"Let's hear it then." Dawlish motioned for Harry to continue, slightly relieved that he had an idea he seemed confident in.

"I don't have all the details worked out of course, but I was thinking we could create a ruse of some sort; A way of tricking the captors into believing that they have Malfoy without actually sending Malfoy. We would exchange him for Hermione and since that person would have the means to escape, and by that I mean a wand, they would be able to pose as him for a short length of time, hopefully leading us to them for capture." Harry said quickly.

"Alright, I suppose you mean we would use Polyjuice Potion to make someone look like Lucius. But the person we send would have to know Lucius really well. They would have to spend the next two days interrogating him under Veritaserum in order to get enough information to successfully pretend they are him even for a short duration. These criminals are smart enough to avoid capture, I imagine they are intelligent enough to determine whether they have the right man or not." Dawlish said rubbing his chin, considering Harry's plan. It was not a great plan exactly, but it was on the right track.

"I actually know of the perfect person for the job, and he already knows Lucius very well. Besides, Lucius has been in Azkaban for five years without one single visitor allowed. Surely his mind would be addled enough to allow for a few small mistakes on the part of the doppelganger. The only problem is convincing him to do it." Harry replied, his confidence waning as he realised how difficult it would be to get this person to cooperate.

"Who do you have in mind, Harry?" Robards asked encouragingly. He liked the idea and believed they could make it work if they planned carefully.

"Draco Malfoy."

Dawlish continued to rub his chin thoughtfully as he looked around the room. "I'm still not entirely convinced, but I am willing to try. Proudfoot, find Draco Malfoy and bring him here immediately. We are already down to forty-six hours."

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Draco Malfoy was standing on the balcony of his third floor bedroom at the Malfoy Manor slowly smoking a cigarette and savouring the crispness of the fresh snow and early morning winter air. Eliza was stretched languidly across his bed, her long and bare leg hooked around a crimson sheet that was pulled just over the tops of breasts. A gust wind blew through the half open balcony door and she rolled over snuggling deeper into the sheet. Draco watched her for a moment before turning his attention back to the snow and his cigarette. He took one final pull on the fag before flicking it carelessly to the snowy ground below. He really needed to give them up; even he knew they were a terrible vice.

Draco walked back into his room and fished through his closet for something to wear careful not to wake Eliza. He liked the girl, more than his usual conquests even, but he wasn't ready to face her in the morning. He'd already written her a note explaining that he was going to his office for a few hours and that the house elf would assist her with anything she desired. Draco shook his head shamefully at his own cowardice as he slipped out the door undetected. No woman had ever woken up in Draco's bed with him still there.

Draco's elf, Tumnus, was waiting in the kitchen with the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and a steaming mug of coffee. On the front page of the paper was a large picture of Hermione in her benefit finery smiling for the camera as she shook the Minister's hand. The picture was taken a mere hour before she disappeared. Draco stared at the picture for a moment. She really was stunning the night before. The dress had accentuated every one of her curves perfectly and Draco noticed for the first time that her mouth was heart shaped and her almond eyes sparkled. She didn't have the kind of classical beauty that he typically went for, but there was something physically appealing about her nonetheless. Draco was just impressed that Potter was finally noticing it. Draco grudgingly admitted that he'd found her slightly physically attractive since their fourth year, but that attraction had not done one wit to make him actually like her. Now he was just indifferent, but he did hope that she was alright. He didn't wish harm on people anymore; it was one thing he'd thoroughly outgrown, even if smoking and womanizing wasn't.

Draco had scarcely finished his cup of coffee when he felt the wards around his house shift signalling a visitor. Tumnus immediately made to go to the front door when Draco stopped him.

"I will get it. I am heading out anyway." Draco grabbed his cloak, threw it over his shoulders, and opened the door, just as Proudfoot was about to knock on the door. It Draco hadn't ducked, the man would have knocked right on Draco's forehead.

"Forgive me sir, but I am here on urgent business. You are being summoned to the Ministry of Magic to speak with Head Auror James Dawlish."

"For what? Do you have a warrant?" Draco demanded, fear rising in his throat. He had nothing to do with her disappearance but he was surprised it took them that long to find some way to pin it on him. The sins of the father fall on the son, and Draco felt it was only a matter of time before they found some way to reunite him with his.

Proudfoot gestured for Draco to follow him outside of the wards so they could apparate. "You are not being arrested. Your presence is requested because you might be of assistance to us."

"Me? How?" Draco said bewildered.

"Perhaps it would be best if you let them explain. Please come along, time is of the essence."

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Hermione sat on the floor of her stone prison huddled shivering in a corner. She guessed she must be in some sort of old castle based on the high narrow window on the wall opposite her. The floors, walls, and ceiling were all stone, and with the dim light streaming through the window, Hermione could now see that the room was completely empty. The door had been magically concealed and each time Dolohov had appeared to check on her he'd come in from a different location. Her side ached where he had cut her but the pain of it was nothing compared to her fear that she would never make it out of there alive.

Now that Hermione knew her purpose as the captive she held little hope for her rescue. Dolohov had evaded capture long enough to surely keep her hidden as well so it was extremely unlikely that the DMLE or Auror department would find her either. She also knew that her life was not worth letting Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban and it was a small comfort for that she would be able to make that sacrifice. She just wished it didn't have to happen during the prime of her life. She'd had so much to look forward to, and as useless and disappointing as it was, she couldn't stop planning in her head the things she would do at the Arianna Dumbledore Paediatrics Ward if she ever had the opportunity.

Hermione shivered violently and wrapped her arms tighter around her knees. She stared vaguely at her breath as it floated in white wisps before her. Other than a few more rounds of the Cruciatus Curse, Dolohov had done nothing else to her yet, but if he didn't come back and perform a warming charm on her she would most likely die of hypothermia before anything else. The cold was settling into her bones and as the chill deepened it became harder and harder for her to hold her eyes open. After some time, Hermione finally succumbed to sleep, images of her parents, Harry, Ron, and other loved ones floating randomly before her mind's eye.

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**A/N: Here's chapter two so will you please review?**

**Thanks for reading!!!**

**I would like to thank my lovely reviewers from chapter one, you all rock!**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't make any money from this.

**Warning: The last part of this chapter is kind of graphic. I have it marked. It is not necessary to read it to get the idea of the story. I will allude to the events later on anyway so you won't be missing anything if you don't want to read it.**

Liberation

Chapter 3

Draco matched Goren Proudfoot's long stride with ease as the Auror led him to a small conference room on the third floor of the Ministry. The short journey was just long enough for Draco's curiosity to really peak. Obviously, Hermione Granger had not been found, but how he could help was beyond him. They weren't close at all, Potter knew that. Draco was not surprised to see the man himself in the small conference room. An hourglass was perched on the table and Harry watched the sand flow through it with darkened eyes. He held a quill against a piece of parchment; the writing instrument paused, seemingly forgotten, in the middle of a word. The rest of the men in the room were all murmuring amongst themselves but they silenced when Draco entered the room. The lack of noise in the room, and change in atmosphere, pulled Harry from his silent reverie and he finally acknowledged Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, we're so grateful you could come right away, for expediency is our top priority right now." Dawlish began, "By now you are aware that Hermione Granger has gone missing, and the team you see before you are the leaders in the investigation, however, we believe you could be a valuable asset to our team as well. With your consent, of course."

Draco took the seat across the table from Harry. Harry was looking at Draco with an expression of borderline pleading. "I'm sorry sir; I fail to see what it is I can offer you."

"Perhaps we should back up. At approximately seven this morning we received this," Dawlish held up the ransom letter, "read it and you will begin to understand."

Draco took the letter gingerly and stared at it in confusion. He could sense rather than feel Harry tapping his foot quickly on the floor across the table in his increasing impatience. For a fraction of a second Draco thought about slowly and dramatically opening the letter, but the worry and fear in the eyes of the man across from him stopped held him back. Instead he flipped the parchment open and read it quickly. He immediately felt relieved that he didn't give in to his childish impulse to stall, but he regretted having to ever read the letter. Suddenly the hourglass made sense, and as Draco eyed it, it seemed as if an enormous quantity of sand had disappeared from the top globe, to the bottom. Draco closed the letter with a shaking hand and pushed it away from him.

"I am beginning to understand. I hope you are not considering releasing Lucius." Draco said, and then he cringed inwardly at how what he'd just said must have sounded to them, "Because there must be another way of finding Hermione."

"No, Malfoy. We have no intention of releasing your father." Harry said shortly.

"Well, then what do you need me for?"

"We need you to pose as your father. You know him well enough that you could pass off as him to whomever it is that wants him. He has not had any contact with the outside world since his imprisonment and you were with him frequently before that. You would be supplied with enough Polyjuice Potion to pose as him for seventy-two hours during which time we will make the exchange for Hermione." Harry said.

Draco thought about it for a moment, considering the possible ways the plan could go wrong. "Why seventy-two hours? Why not just long enough to make the exchange?"

"Because we do not know what the further stipulations of the exchange might be. If they want a significant period of time to validate that you are indeed Lucius Malfoy you will need more Polyjuice. I fail to see how they would actually believe that we would release Lucius, so you will have to play the part convincingly well. We are riding on the hope that the kidnappers will believe that Harry convinced me to secretly release him for Hermione. We are hoping that his reputation as a Ministry favourite will make it plausible." Dawlish replied.

"Do you really believe that Hermione will be released?" Draco asked.

Ron considered Draco for a moment, honesty was important because Draco would be putting himself in considerable danger if he agreed. "We don't know. We also don't know if they want your father released just so they can kill him themselves or if they want him to join them. That is why we will have to put all precautions in place to ensure your survival, and also why your consent to assist us is necessary. We cannot express with enough sincerity the magnitude of danger you could possibly put yourself in, or the depth of our gratitude if you agree. Time is running short, Draco."

Draco was impressed by Weasley's short speech. Ever since Pansy had started seeing him, Draco had no choice but to get to know him. Ron actually fit in well in upper class Pureblood society and he managed to do so without alienating his friends like Hermione. Hermione was in a league of her own, though. She may have been a Muggle born but she was an essential part of the Wizarding community and Draco understood why they would choose to kidnap her. She was important to more people than just Potter.

"What would you be able to do to protect me in case they wanted to harm me?" Draco asked. He could see Harry's eyes lighten with hope at Draco's words.

"First of all, you will be armed. Second of all, we will do our best to keep near you so that the exchange is done quickly. You will also be allowed unlimited access to your father under the influence of Veritaserum to pump him for information on any organisations, or fellow Death-Eaters he might have been plotting with before he was arrested. You will need that information just in case the plan is to rekindle a faction, which for the sake of your safety we hope is the case. The flask that will contain the Polyjuice you need will also be a Portkey that will activate at the end of the three days and bring you back here in case you have not already been able to return. That is just a last resort however, because you will also have a coin with a Protean Charm on it. You will be able to use it to tell us where you are and who you are with so that we may make the proper arrests." Harry said.

Dawlish followed along on his notes, nodding in agreement. "However, we hope all of these precautions will be unnecessary. We hope that the request is to meet, retrieve Hermione, and apprehend them before you even need to leave with them. If you do need to leave with them for some reason, you will have to notify us via the coin of your status as soon as possible."

Draco rubbed his face and then dragged his hand through his hair. He couldn't believe the whole situation was happening. He could say no and walk away and there would be nothing they could do. They could find someone else to question his father and pose as him. They were asking Draco to risk his life for someone he'd never even really spent any time with. Draco slowly looked around the table into the eyes of each man. All of them were looking at him with neutral expressions, patiently waiting for his decision, except for Ron who was clearly begging Draco to help with his eyes, and Harry who had returned his attention to the rapidly disappearing sand in the hourglass.

Draco struggled internally for another minute before reaching his decision. They were right, nobody at that table would be able to convince the kidnappers they were Lucius Malfoy better than Draco could. The idea of taking a risk and doing something big and important for the right side once and for all quickly began to appeal to him. It would be his own personal contribution to making up for the wrongs of his father. The worst part would not be any danger he might be in, it would seeing his father. He'd hoped to be rid of the man forever, but a visit for information would be essentially necessary.

"Alright. I will do it." Draco said. There was a collective sigh of relief as men all around the room visibly sagged with relief.

"Excellent." Robards stated. "Let us prepare."

After the meeting was finished and Draco had taken an oath of secrecy for what he was about to do, he caught up with Harry and Ron.

"Malfoy, I really want to thank you for doing this. I know that Hermione doesn't mean that much to you but she means the world to me and I can't stand knowing that she is hurt right now and there is nothing I can do." Harry said to Draco, the fear and worry evident in his tired eyes.

"How do you know she's hurt right now? Maybe whoever has her is completely amateur and is just holding her captive." Draco said trying to keep Harry positive.

Ron looked at Draco, a shadow passing over his eyes. "You know how the letter was written in red?"

"Yeah."

"We tested it, it was Hermione's blood."

A large rock settled in the pit of Draco's stomach. If these lunatics were for real then the chance of Hermione getting out of this alive were slim to none.

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Hermione awoke after a little more than an hour's fitful sleep with the pressing need to relieve herself. She had no way of knowing where Dolohov was, and when and if he would return. She was afraid she was going to have an accident but it was the thought of urinating on her dress that bothered her more than anything. Having the dress torn by Dolohov with his knife was not somehow near as humiliating as peeing on it would be. But she did have to go and if he didn't arrive soon with an option she was going to find a corner of the room to hike her skirt up in so that she could relieve herself and still remain dry. Deciding that her death was imminent no matter what, it would not hurt to ask for what she needed.

"Hello?" She called into the empty room. Her voice sounded hollow and foreign as it echoed around the stone room. She counted to thirty and then called again. "Is anybody near? I just need to use the bathroom!"

Hermione started counting to thirty once more but she was only up to eighteen when Dolohov appeared through a door near her left. He came in carrying a plate and was followed closely behind by Gregory Goyle. Goyle had also disappeared right after the war and Hermione was really surprised to see him but she tried not to show it.

"Good morning, sunshine." Dolohov said his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I believe you remember your old schoolmate, Greg."

Gregory Goyle made a visible show of checking Hermione out and then he stepped directly in front of her. Hermione took an involuntary step back but Goyle shot out an arm and wrapped it around her waist pulling her firmly to him. With his free hand he pushed a stray curl off of Hermione's neck and bent his face so that he could smell her.

"You're right, Antonin. I do believe I will have fun with her." Goyle breathed. Hermione felt bile rising in her throat and she swallowed thickly against the bitter fluid.

"Not now. We have business to attend to." Dolohov plunked the plate he was holding on the table where she'd written the letter the night before. Hermione automatically placed a hand over the still throbbing wound in her side at the memory. The move did not go unnoticed by Dolohov but he ignored it and instead focussed on her head.

"What is this?" He said slowly and with much interest as he used one arm to balance the dishes he carried, and used the other to yank the expensive comb out of her hair. "This is nice; I imagine I can find some other use for it that will be much more lucrative than having it sit in your pretty hair."

Hermione fought back tears as her precious gift from Harry was taken away from her. As she looked at it she realised that she'd also just lost the only weapon she might have had to cause any sort of pain to Goyle when he inevitably came to force himself upon her. She was as good as dead so she didn't see any purpose in going quietly.

"No. That's mine." She spat.

"Well, it was. But now it is mine. Now eat your breakfast, you will need you strength later. We will be writing another letter." Dolohov replied pointing to the plate and cup on the table. They both made to leave the room before Hermione stopped them.

"Wait! I need to go to the bathroom. Could you just let me—"

"Oh, of course. How rude of me," Dolohov said snidely while Goyle guffawed, "here you are." Dolohov whipped out his wand and conjured a chamber pot, and then quickly left the room.

"Great." Hermione muttered to the empty room. With the excitement of her visitor's arrival over, Hermione once again felt the chill in the air. It was not as bad as before but she was definitely still cold. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and slowly approached the chamber pot that was placed very nearly in the centre of the room. She stared into it for a moment before bending over and dragging it against the wall. Maybe she would get lucky and Dolohov would use that particular spot to enter the room and fall in it.

Hermione pushed her hair away from her face and felt the pang of loss from losing her gift. Sighing deeply she lifted her dress and pulled down her silky underwear and squatted over the pot. The cold air and the humility she felt prevented her from being able to perform for a minute but once she was done she felt immensely better. Wishing she had some toilet paper or a drying charm Hermione hovered for longer than was necessary over the pot, staring at her shoes. Hermione chastised herself for stupidly thinking that her comb was her only weapon. She was wearing high heels. When she was finished she walked over to the table and to the plate of food. Her stomach gave a rumble despite how nauseated her situation made her.

There were two pieces of buttered bread, some scrambled eggs, and two pieces of ham sitting on the plate. It was a surprisingly decent meal for a captive. Hermione debated whether it would be worth eating or not for a moment before picking up the fork and digging in. She was confident they weren't going to poison her and she wasn't going to spend her last hours alive torturing herself with hunger. She needed to be strong and keep her mind clear just in case an opportunity for escape presented itself. Besides, they would be torturing her plenty, so she didn't see the logic in doing it to herself.

Hermione finished every bite of the food and then laid the knife and fork back on the plate. It was cold and dry, but tolerable. She gulped down the cup of weak tea he'd left her in two large swallows. Hermione longed for her wand as she began to pace the room and assess her situation. The walls of the room were impeccably sealed. She could not find a hint of the door's natural location and there was no one place where she felt the hum of magic more than another signalling the location of the charm that prevented her from leaving. The light from the window brightened slowly as time passed and Hermione guessed that it was probably around ten in the morning. She'd been in captivity for nearly fourteen or fifteen hours if she was correct.

The only sound for the next fifteen minutes was the echo of Hermione's high heeled shoes as she clicked them unnecessarily hard on the floor. With her hair comb gone her shoes would be the only weapon she had if she chose to inflict some pain on her captors and Hermione hoped that the opportunity to do so would arise soon. She was beginning to feel less fearful and more than angry that they were going to take away everything she had worked so hard for over the years. Hermione spent the next half hour reliving the benefit and reciting her speech to herself over and over again each time with new and false embellishments about her own success. She was on the third recitation where she was vividly describing how she received the Order of Merlin First Class for the most amazing thesis ever written, when she heard slow hard clapping behind her. She whirled around and saw Dolohov standing behind her.

"Brava! That was a lovely speech." He purred walking toward her pulling a piece of parchment and quill out of his pocket. He then slid the silver knife out of its hidden sheath under his sleeve. "Time to write a letter."

Hermione inwardly groaned wondering if she should start running in circles and make him give chase to her, or just hold still and let him stick the knife in. Settling on the idea that a little stick with the knife could turn into quite a large one if she struggled, she decided to hold still. She would save her fight for either escape or when they finally decided to violate her. The last thought alone was more cause for the fear that flickered across her face than the knife that he held in front of her. The original wound in her side would probably get infected soon and it really hurt but it would bleed easier so she had a small hope that he would poke her there instead of somewhere new.

No such luck, Hermione gasped with surprise and pain as Dolohov yanked her arm forward and slid the knife's sharp point across the sensitive flesh on the inside of her right elbow. Blood poured freely and Hermione worried that this cut would be difficult to stop; it was very deep and about two inches long. Dolohov thrust the quill into her hand and pushed her over to the table. Hermione gritted her teeth as she filled the quill with blood and then transferred it to her right hand so she could write. Due to the cut in her arm her handwriting was significantly shakier than on the previous letter. She wished it wasn't because she figured by now Harry had identified the 'ink' to be her blood and knew it would make him worry even more. For the first time since she was kidnapped she felt a sob build up in her throat as she thought about Harry. Her lovely, best friend Harry, who would do anything for her, even marry her and spend his life trying to make her happy if that was what she wanted. As she wrote, the sob grew into a lump that she couldn't swallow down no matter how hard she gulped.

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Harry watched Draco and Lucius with disgusted fascination as Draco questioned his father. The effects of the Veritaserum were beginning to wear off and every now and then Lucius would shout out, "I will not answer," before spilling his guts. Harry could see the pain in Draco's eyes as he spoke with his father. It was hard for Harry to imagine ever caring for the dirty and shrunken man before them but that was his own naïveté. He grew up without his parents, so he really had no idea how it felt to be a young boy emulating a man that was still alive, regardless of how evil he was. Draco's face was a stony mask by the time he'd finished speaking with Lucius. Harry waited for Draco to walk away so that he could Obliviate Lucius. It would not do for him to have a memory of Draco's visit just to be safe. Lucius' eyes hardened as the last of the truth serum left his body.

"Draco, you are no son of mine." Lucius snarled.

Draco threw back his head and laughed, "You have no idea how much I wish that had always been true."

Draco walked away from Lucius' cell and disappeared around a corner. Harry approached the broken, yet still menacing man. His hair was matted and dirty, his face was gaunt and his grey eyes were manic, but he was still the same cruel and callous man Harry had always remembered. He was no better than the men holding Hermione hostage, and Harry had to exercise extreme restraint in order to prevent himself from torturing the prisoner before he Obliviated him. Before he walked away though, Harry reached in the cell and ripped a handful of hair from Lucius' head.

Harry found Draco leaning against the wall in the room that would take them back to the Ministry. Draco quickly wiped his eyes and stood facing away from him. Harry walked up beside Draco, his throat working as he fought to think of something appropriate to say. Draco could see Harry opening and closing his mouth like a fish next to him and wished the green-eyed idiot would just stay quiet for once.

"Thanks Draco. I know that was hard." Harry said.

Draco sighed deeply. "Yeah, let's just go, we've been here all night."

Harry looked at his watch and shook his head. It was nearing six in the morning. They had twenty four hours until the exchange was supposed to take place. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept. Draco looked at Harry carefully when they arrived back at the Ministry.

"You look like hell, Potter. You really should get some sleep today."

Harry nodded his agreement. "I'll take a potion to help me rest. I won't do anyone any good in this state. Let's just check in with Dawlish and we can both leave."

As if saying his name had summoned him, Dawlish came running around the corner.

"There you are, Potter! We have another letter." He said holding up the dark grey parchment. Harry took it and read it quickly trying not to look at Hermione's blood too long. He registered that the handwriting was much sloppier than the first time and feared for Hermione even more. Harry handed the letter to Draco who took it with a slightly trembling hand.

_Dawlish,_

_7 a.m. tomorrow. Stonehenge. Your precious Mudblood will be in the centre of the circle. Only Lucius will approach her to verify her identity. There will be a small black pebble on the ground next to the Mudblood. It is a Portkey that will bring him to me. It is very small so any attempt for more than one person to touch it is futile. Any person who attempts to use the Portkey, besides Lucius Malfoy, will be summarily killed upon their arrival. _

_I hear the Ministry does not negotiate with terrorists. That works out perfectly for us because, you see, this is not a negotiation. Follow my instructions, or she dies._

_Putus Cruor Confuto_

"I'm sorry, Draco. It looks as if you will have to go to them and report to us via the coin." Dawlish reached out a hand and placed it on Draco's shoulder. "You are doing a very good, and very brave thing."

**Warning******************************************************************************

"That's a nice letter isn't it? I can see that you look hopeful that I might actually let you go. In all truthfulness, I probably won't let you go." Dolohov approached Hermione slowly and with every step forward he took she took a step back. She _was_ hopeful he was going to let her go, but that hope was quickly erased with his words, and as the mad look in his eyes heated lustfully.

"You can keep stepping back, Mudblood, but I will get you backed into a wall eventually."

Hermione took a few quick shuffling steps back and he followed but before she reached the wall she quickly turned and sidestepped out of his reach.

"Oh, you want to dance do you?"

"You will not touch me!" Hermione yelled

Dolohov laughed a loud cackling laugh that filled the room and Hermione's head but she continued to move away from him. He followed slowly, clearly enjoying the game. When Hermione was far enough away to make a quick movement she bent down and removed her shoes and gripped them tightly.

"I have a wand, girl. Do you think taking your shoes off will help you get away from me?" He laughed as he took a few long strides toward her. Hermione turned to run from him but he cast an Impedimenta spell, stopping her.

"I'm done playing games." Dolohov gripped her by the hair and threw her on the hard stone floor, coming down to rest on top of her. Hermione screamed and struggled beneath him. The more she struggled the harder he pressed his growing erection against her. He used his hips to pin her lower half and his hands to pin her upper arms. "Do you feel that? Do you want that?"

"NO!" Hermione screamed at him wrenching her arm free. She quickly swung the heel of her shoe towards Dolohov's face and yelled with triumph when the heel sunk into his right eye. Dolohov rolled off of her blindly aiming his wand his wand.

"GOYLE!" He screamed, and then turning on Hermione, "CRUCIO!"

Hermione curled in on herself as the pain tore through her body. The strength of his anger and pain only intensified the effects of the spell. Goyle came bounding into the room, his wand raised. Dolohov continued to hold the curse on her, blood and goo streaming out of his damaged eyeball. "Hold her down." Dolohov ordered, finally releasing the curse. Hermione fell limp and struggled to catch her breath.

"Why don't you just stun her?" Goyle asked stupidly as Dolohov yanked down his pants and bent over Hermione who immediately started to struggle and scream again.

"Because I don't like them to be limp, you moron. I like it when they squirm and this one is in for a pounding. Hold her!"

Goyle got down and pulled Hermione's upper body into his lap. He pulled her close to him and yanked her arms in behind her back. Hermione struggled against him but he was freakishly strong. She managed to turn her head sharply enough to bite his arm hard until she drew blood. Dolohov reached up and backhanded her, splitting her lips open.

"Don't." He ordered just before ripping away Hermione's virtue with one thrust of his hips.

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**A/N: I know this chapter ended on a low note but it can't last forever. I had a hard time writing that and actually toned it down a lot. **

**Thanks a bunch to those of you who have reviewed and put this story on alert. I really appreciate it!**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, these people aren't mine

Liberation

Chapter 4

_11 pm_

Hermione lay down on the cold stone floor shivering for hours. The savages had left her a clean bowl of water to wash herself with, but it did not go far, and disappeared the moment it emptied. Later they dumped off a sandwich and a plastic pitcher of more water. She was in a considerable amount of pain, but she did not feel sorry for herself yet, she only felt angry. She was a raging storm of tumult. But she did not feel pity. She was not the first person to have something like this happen to her and she wouldn't be the last. She may have been ravished in the most brutal of ways, but her virtue would be strengthened by it. If she got out of the situation alive, that is. She had been there for quite some time and they still hadn't killed her, only serving to confuse and anger her more.

The next morning was supposed to be the day she would earn her freedom, but it was not going to happen. Even with the extremely unlikely release of Lucius, Dolohov said that Hermione was never going anywhere. Leaving and moving on with her life knowing that she'd been brutally raped was a far more pleasant prospective than living in a cold stone room indefinitely. She would rather die sooner than later if that was the only direction her future was to go. She could live with the memory of what happened to her, but she could not continue to live with it as a constant reality.

After the room had completely darkened, Hermione finally got up to wash herself, drink some water, and eat her sandwich. She damned herself for not having a natural inclination to be suicidal, because if she was, then perhaps she would purposefully weaken herself to make death come sooner. But she just couldn't do it, they would have to kill her and she would not make it easy for them. After Hermione finished her meal and the empty dishes disappeared, she wrapped herself in her dress for warmth and curled back up on the floor. She was physically exhausted, and her body needed a rest very badly if it was to heal it at all. Her mind needed the respite even more desperately, but she feared it would never come, not even in her sleep.

Just as Hermione's thoughts finally began to swirl together just as they always did before sleep, she was awoken by the sound of the ever mysteriously appearing door being thrown open and into the wall. She quickly stood back up and retreated into the dark shadows below the one lone window.

"Get in there and stop your bellyaching! Company for you, Mudblood!" She heard Goyle saying as he unceremoniously tossed someone into the room.

Hermione could not tell from the light and her distance any details about that person, but it was clear that he or she was very weak by the way they crumpled to the floor.

"Please, don't leave me here. I have done nothing to hurt you," a male voice said haltingly, his voice wavering.

Goyle guffawed loudly as he kicked the man and Hermione heard a bone break with a sickening crack. "You're a Muggle, and that's all it takes. Don't worry; we'll be back for you later."

As soon as Hermione heard the door slam shut, she approached the man slowly. When he heard her approaching, he quickly started shuffling away from her, scooting on his backside.

"Stop right there," he said with as much vigour as he could muster, which was very little.

Hermione almost laughed manically. As if he could stop anyone in his current state, but of course, she did not want to hurt him, so she continued to approach him. He was backing into the narrow strip of moonlight that was streaming across the room, and just before he moved his face into the beam's faint glow, she stopped. That man was as good as dead, most likely he would die long before she would, and she found that she did not have enough strength left in her to get to know the face of another condemned man. She slowly backed away from him and curled back up in her corner without saying a word. But instead of trying to sleep again, she passed the night away listening to the man gasp for air, cry, and occasionally moan out in pain. After a couple of hours she had to press her palms against her ears, for fear that his pain would drive her to the brink.

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_3 am_

Draco lay in bed staring at the small fissures that crisscrossed his ceiling. The last time he'd spent hours awake in bed staring at them was when he was a student during the war. He could never sleep then, and in the three days since Hermione's disappearance he hadn't been able to sleep again. The same tension that he felt every time he had to face a Death-Eater had returned with all its previous vigour, but without the same trembling fear. This time he was going to fight and finally prove, once and for all, that he really had changed. Society had accepted him, especially after he publicly denounced his father's beliefs, but Draco was not satisfied with the role he played in the war. Draco had done nothing more than verbalise his intentions to leave the ranks of Voldemort's followers, he did not fight when he should have instead choosing to hide, and he was disgusted with his cowardice.

Next to him, Eliza sighed softly in her sleep before moving to snuggle against Draco. He deftly shifted position so that she settled deeper into the mattress instead, and watched her carefully until her breathing evened once more. She was quite upset with him for leaving before she woke the day after the benefit, and they had argued briefly over it. It was their first argument. In fact, it was the first argument he'd had with any woman that didn't end in the immediate termination of their relationship. He was extremely distasteful of arguing with people whether he was right or wrong and when he said he didn't want to argue anymore, he usually meant it.

However, Eliza was a nice person. She was not as vapid as the women he usually dated, and since she was studying magical history, her knowledge was useful in his hunt for historical artefacts. They had a lot in common, and Draco was sensible enough to realise that he couldn't womanise forever. Draco slid from the bed and stood over her, staring down at her regretfully. He finally found someone he could imagine some sort of future with and he was lying to her already. He couldn't possibly tell her that in a few short hours he would be entering what could be a very deadly trap. As far as she knew he was leaving for a few days to search the Pyramids for the Golden Ankh that King Tutankhamen was buried with. It was supposed to be imbued with the magic that the young King once possessed, and was a very dark artefact. But Draco didn't have any nefarious intent; he just wanted to see if the legends surrounding it were true. He shook the thoughts from his mind. He would think about the search for the artefact later.

Once again, Eliza would wake up alone, and Draco found himself wishing he could stay and wake up with her. He really couldn't determine if that was actually true, or if he was only thinking it because he knew he wouldn't have to actually make the choice.

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_5 am_

Harry sat in his office carefully cataloguing everything they would need for their visit to Stonehenge. It was hardly ironic that they chose that place, seeing as how everyone knew that it had a magical history. Harry was surprised that they chose the hour they did. It was not uncommon to see visitors at the monument at that hour, albeit not many of them. They were taking every precaution though, and he had already placed temporary Muggle repelling charms around the area. He had gone under his Invisibility cloak and was disappointed to find that nobody was lurking around. He was itching for a battle and would have taken on anyone, alone or not.

Harry carefully activated the charm on the large flask that contained the Polyjuice Potion, setting it to activate as a Portkey exactly three days and two hours from that moment. Harry could not help but notice that everything seemed to be occurring in three-day increments. If it was necessary for Draco to actually use the flask for the whole three days, Harry prayed that he would be able to do so without getting caught. Next, Harry sent a few messages on the coins they were going to communicate with in order to test the Protean charm on them. Harry flipped one of the large galleons in his hand a few times, thinking with longing of Hermione and the days when she'd actually charmed the coins he held in his hand. Harry had adjusted them to display full messages rather than just dates and times but the concept was still the same. No interfering Death Eater, or whoever they were, would be surprised to see a few galleons in Lucius Malfoy's pocket.

The last item that Harry set out for Draco was his father's staff. The guards at Azkaban had taken it away from him when he was first arrested, and Harry was surprised to learn that neither Draco nor Narcissa Malfoy had gone to retrieve any of Lucius' belongings. Nobody knew that of course, so they all hoped that the staff would lend credibility to Draco's disguise.

Harry placed all the items in a neat row on his desk and then sat behind it to look at his picture of Hermione. His gut instincts told him that they were not going to be able to fight that day, and that Draco was going to have to take the Portkey they were going to leave for him. He had an almost intolerable sense of foreboding that the day was going to go horribly wrong, and it was killing him that he did not if it was Draco or Hermione that was going to suffer the most. They had no backup plan if Draco disappeared and the kidnapper's plan was to kill him. It was a risk Draco was willing to take, and Harry could not express his gratitude enough. He shifted his gaze to the items arranged neatly in front of him and shook his head. There were too few things there, and too few people involved. The plan was so simple that Harry doubted it could possibly work, but it was all they had.

It wasn't until Harry saw a tear splash on Hermione's face in the picture frame that he realised he was crying. He loved that woman with all his heart and he would give anything to have her back. Draco knew that as well, and Harry wondered if their doppelganger resented them for thinking him dispensable. Harry really didn't want to possibly trade one life for another, but someone had to enter the fray and Draco was the viable candidate. He was not reluctant and Harry appreciated that, but he knew that if anything happened to Draco and Hermione was fine, the guilt would eat at his conscience forever. Harry shook his head sadly and amended his last thought. Guilt would eat at his conscience if Draco got hurt, regardless of what happened to Hermione.

The sound of shoes beating the floor in the hallway alerted Harry to the fact that he was at work, and not alone. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and gathered his notes, effectively distancing his emotions from the situation. He must be professional; it would not do to let his heart override his head. He learnt that lesson the hard way when Sirius died.

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The sky overhead was a bubblegum pink and Hermione's ears were filled the sound of children's laughter. Little blue rabbits were scampering in wide circles around a carousel that had live Hippogriffs, Thestrals, and Unicorns instead of horses. In the centre of the carousel a small army of house elves were running in giant hamster wheels, making the carousel turn. Hermione clapped delightedly along with all the invisible children around her as the bubblegum pink sky opened up and began raining candy. She continued to laugh until someone came up behind her and pulled her hair.

Hermione jerked awake from her dream and instinctively placed a hand on the back of her head. Dolohov was dangling a large chunk of her hair from his dirty fingertips in front of her face.

"Wakey, wakey, Princess," he purred, his one visible eye glinting malevolently in the pale light of dawn filtering through the window. "Thanks for the hair."

Hermione stood up as quickly as she could and pressed her back up against the wall. The man they had dumped in the room earlier was backed up against the wall opposite her, although he was still too weak to stand. Hermione didn't want to see his face, but she couldn't help but look straight in front of her. He was covered in bruises and blood to the point Hermione could not make out an approximate age or even his hair colour. She quickly looked away as Goyle grabbed the man and dragged him to the centre of the room.

Dolohov placed a large goblet of a gelatinous green potion on the small table in the middle of the room. Hermione recognised it immediately as Polyjuice Potion and instantly knew why they wanted her hair. They were going to dose the man with Polyjuice and dump him off at Stonehenge instead of her. Hermione let out an involuntary moue of disappointment, but quickly shut her mouth and pressed herself against the wall even harder, as if it would make her invisible, or better yet, she would pass right through it.

Goyle laughed like a loon as Dolohov slowly walked up to Hermione and peered into her eyes. She managed to will herself to meet his gaze and in the end he looked away first so that he could evaluate her body. He reached out a grimy hand and traced Hermione's jaw and lips with his thumb.

"You didn't _honestly_ think we were going to let you go, did you?" he said mockingly. "We have plans for you. Our friend will no doubt be in the mood for a treat when he gets here. It has been an awful long time for him, after all. But you won't do in this state, will you?"

Dolohov tugged unceremoniously on the shoulder strap of Hermione's torn and dirty gown. After a few Scourgifying charms, Dolohov stepped back to observe his handiwork.

"It's not great, but at least your skin is clean now, even if your blood is not," he commented offhandedly before turning to Goyle and the little man. "Bring him here, Gregory."

Goyle dragged the man forward, ignoring his cries of protest.

"Are you going to poison me?" he screamed.

Dolohov chuckled at the man indulgingly. "No, I'm not going to poison you."

He placed the hair in the potion and Hermione couldn't help but look to see what colour it turned. It turned a light turquoise, and she filed that useless bit of information into the recesses of her mind. Goyle silenced the now hysterical man with his wand, and forced a few swallows of the potion down his throat. The man's face twisted grotesquely in a silent scream as he transformed into Hermione. After a moment, the transformation was complete and the man closed his mouth in confusion as the the pain of the conversion stopped. He looked down at his body and immediately began to silently scream again.

Hermione took a few steps forward, transfixed with the transmogrification. Goyle and Dolohov weren't paying her any attention at all as she walked ever closer to see her own body lying on the floor.

"You see, Muggle filth, I said I wasn't going to poison you," Dolohov pointed his wand at the Muggle's face. "But I am going to kill you. Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione clamped her teeth down on her tongue to keep from screaming as she watched the man in her body crumple to the ground. The Polyjuice would not be able to wear off as long as he was dead and unable to metabolise it, so whoever found her body would think she was dead for sure. Any fleeting hope she had of rescue fled her mind permanently as the bitter reality of her fate settled even deeper into her core. Tears burned behind her eyes as Goyle stripped the clothes off the man, leaving him naked.

"Good idea, Goyle. It adds a nice element of drama to dump her body off naked," he then turned to Hermione, "Maybe your lover Potter will enjoy seeing you even more now."

The tears spilled over, but Hermione still faced Dolohov. "Your stupid plan will never work. They will never release Lucius, and I would rather die than see you get what you want."

"Take him, Goyle," Dolohov ordered, sending him out the door directly next to Hermione. She nearly stamped her foot in frustration at that damnable charmed door.

Dolohov approached Hermione for the third time that morning and hovered over her, stroking a hand over her hair. "You really do underestimate your worth to the Wizarding Community don't you? Potter wants you back, and we all know that what Potter wants, he gets. If my stupid little plan, as you so delicately put it, doesn't work, I have other options. Now shut up and be a good girl. I am expecting company very shortly."

Dolohov left the room this time using the door right below the window, which should lead him right outside, but Hermione had no doubt it led to a hallway or another room. When the door snapped shut behind Dolohov, she actually ran to the door and pressed her fingers against the seal as it disappeared right before her eyes, leaving the grainy surface of the wall unmarred by any sign of a door frame. The strength and resolve that had kept Hermione sane slipped a little as she crashed to the floor and mourned for the man who'd just been murdered, and for herself.

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_7am_

Harry, Ron, Dawlish, and Proudfoot all hid behind the various stones at Stonehenge, either Disillusioned or underneath Invisibility cloaks. 'Lucius' stood about ten feet from the centre of the stones waiting for the moment Hermione would arrive, not that he really expected her to arrive. When the crack of arrival did sound in the middle of the ring at exactly seven, he was so shocked he actually jumped. Lying on the ground in front of him was Hermione, naked and still. As he watched, a small black stone, barely visible if he'd been standing any further away, toppled out of her slack hand.

Draco could hear the gravel crunching behind him as Harry and his associates stepped out from behind the stones to see Hermione. Draco raised a hand to still the Aurors' approach as he slowly approached the body. His heart stilled when he looked down and saw her mouth agape and her eyes open and lifeless, staring at nothing. Draco grimaced as he bent over to pick up the little stone trying not to touch the cold hand lying beside it. He rose slowly when nothing immediately happened, and turned around in the direction of the Aurors with a questioning look on his face.

"Nothing's happening. What sh—' Draco's statement was immediately cut off as the tug of Portkey travel gripped him behind the navel. The full gravity of his situation hit him as he slipped through space to his destination. He closed his eyes just before he landed and stumbled to the ground. He could feel a cold stone floor underneath his feet and around him he could hear a gasp of astonishment and pleasure at his arrival. Draco kept his eyes closed and quickly coached himself on proper 'Lucius' behaviour before rising regally to face his host.

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_7:02 am_

Harry ripped off his invisibility cloak and threw it on the ground as he ran to Hermione. He didn't even need to feel for a pulse in her neck to know she was dead but he did so anyway. He ripped off his heavy wool robe and wrapped it around her body before pulling her onto his lap and burying his face in her hair. Ron had dropped to his knees before Hermione, his face red with rage and anguish as he held onto her lifeless hand, but Ron said nothing. Harry rocked back and forth for a full minute, his heart pounding in his ears.

The agony of his loss was coursing through him and his stomach rolled over several times until he couldn't take it anymore. He gently, but quickly, placed Hermione's body back on the ground before crawling a few feet away to vomit violently. Rage coursed through his blood and his pulse throbbed as if to make up for the lack of pulse in the body lying at his feet. Harry sat there with his elbows on his knees and his gripping his hair, pulling it.

"Harry," Ron said putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

Harry looked at Ron and nodded tears streaming down his face. Harry prayed to whatever deities above and below that were listening that he had the opportunity to kill whomever it was that killed Hermione. Their only hope now was Draco and their flimsy plan at locating the kidnappers. Harry opened his mouth to respond to Ron but found that his voice would not work. Instead, he gave him a curt nod and reached for Hermione's hand so he could Apparate with her to St. Mungo's. He was going to have to tell her parents, but it was going to have to wait for a little while. Ron stopped Harry before he could take her away.

"Where are you taking her?" he asked.

Dawlish walked up and answered for him. "To St. Mungo's, I imagine. Harry, perhaps you should wait a moment so that I can go alert the hospital of your arrival. This is going to cause a riot, so I need to make arrangements to keep things discreet."

Harry mentally slapped himself for not thinking of that first. He was distraught, but he was still an Auror and he needed to keep his head on straight. He finally found his voice.

"You're right. I will take her to her flat while I await your word. Goren, will you please release the Muggle repelling charms as soon as we're gone?"

Harry's associate nodded solemnly as he handed Harry his dropped Invisibility cloak.

"I'll go with you, mate," Ron said, and Apparated right behind Harry to Hermione's London flat.

Harry laid Hermione's body on the ground and went to her bedroom to find her some clothes. Harry's disgust with Hermione's killers grew even stronger as he imagined them stripping away her clothes. It was if they stripped away Hermione's dignity apparently as easily as they did her life. When Harry returned with her clothes he discovered Ron examining her nude form closely.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded.

Ron looked up at Harry and scowled, "I'm investigating for signs of injury. There appear to be none, which means that maybe she wasn't tortured before she was, er, before they…" Ron couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Small comfort," Harry deadpanned.

Harry carefully dressed Hermione without magic and then sat back and stared at her. He couldn't believe it was Hermione, it didn't feel like Hermione at all, not that he could imagine how a dead body could still feel like the person they used to be. It felt like hours had passed since Draco had disappeared and Harry kept looking at his watch. At exactly 7:25 the coin in his pocket heated.

Harry jumped up quickly and dug the coin out of his pocket to read the messages as the words appeared. The letters rearranging themselves every twenty seconds or so to form new words, and the message replayed three times before stopping altogether.

_Hermione is alive._

_Body is polyjuiced muggle._

_Don't know where I am._

_Will send more soon._

Harry read the message out loud to Ron as it displayed on the coin. Hope blossomed in his chest and radiated throughout his body.

"Ron. Go find Dawlish and stop him. If he has told anyone anything, have them Obliviated. What do you think we should do with the body?" Harry asked easily, detaching himself the body on the floor since he knew now it really wasn't his friend. For a cursory moment Harry acknowledged how quickly he was able to pigeonhole the body into the 'faceless Muggle' category, but pushed the thought aside. He could feel guilty about that later, for in the moment he was too pleased to know it was not Hermione after all.

Ron shrugged a little surprised at how easily Harry cast aside the person in Hermione's body. His friend was usually not so callous. "Unless we can find someone who knows how to make a dead body metabolise Polyjuice, there is no way to identify it. The best thing to do would be to turn it over to the Muggle authorities, though. This person might have a family looking for him, or her."

"You're right. I'll take it to the Department of Mysteries to see what the Unspeakables can do. It will be out of our hands then," Harry kept glancing at the coin, waiting for more news from Draco. "Let's go."

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"Lucius, is that really you?" Dolohov asked as he peered into Draco's face.

Draco looked down his nose at Dolohov disgustedly. "Of course it is me! I see that freedom has not taught you how to bathe properly."

Draco took an exaggerated step backwards. Dolohov's personal hygiene was always a bone of contention for the elder Malfoy, but the man proved useful otherwise.

"Perhaps you should attempt to identify me through means other than breathing into my face," Draco said snidely.

Dolohov considered him shrewdly, wholly unfazed by the comment on his hygiene, or lack thereof. "What was the last thing I said to you, the last time I saw you?"

Draco considered the question, racking his brain for the memory. He'd asked his father what the last words he heard from every Death Eater known to be still living right before Lucius' arrest. Nothing was coming immediately to mind and Draco was beginning to panic because he knew he was pausing too long. He quickly replayed every detail of the first day he spent in his father's cell from the moment he woke up to… and then the signature of the letters he read flashed through his mind triggering the right memory.

"You said, 'wait patiently, my friend, Putus Cruor Confuto will reign and you will be free again.'"

"Lucius, my friend, it is you," Dolohov said eagerly, bending down at Draco's feet. "I knew Potter would follow through."

Draco took a moment to look around him, avoiding Dolohov's gaze. The man spoke as if he was rational, but he was completely deluded for thinking the release of Lucius would ever happen, no matter how important the Hermione was to the Wizarding World. For a few moments Draco feigned disinterest in his expression, but he was really observing the room as closely as he could to see if he recognised anything at all. The room was lavishly furnished with a fire roaring. There was a table full of food along one windowless wall. The other wall had long brocade curtains of a deep burgundy hanging over its large windows. Wall sconces and a large candle chandelier provided the majority of light in the room.

"I see you delivered the girl to Potter," Draco said sarcastically, trying to make conversation as he observed the room. Draco casually walked up to the window and pulled back the curtain. Looking down, he could see that they were in a small castle of some sort. Based on his view, they were near a coastline; for he could see water churning against cliffs just off in the distance. That wasn't going to help him; there were lots of old castles along coastlines in many countries. As far as he knew, the castle would appear as a ruins to anyone else.

"I will require a wand, Dolohov. The Ministry broke mine, and of course, did not trust me with another one." Draco's wand was actually tucked up his sleeve.

"Of course, the fools. Although they were probably right, I presume," Dolohov said, as a door off to his right opened and another man walked through. Draco fought to maintain his mask of indifference as he saw his old childhood friend walk through the door.

Draco had not heard from Goyle at all since he last saw him outside the Room of the Requirement on the day of the Final Battle. Years of hiding had done nothing to whittle away at his frame, for he was as large and menacing as ever. But he had an evil glint in his eyes that frightened Draco considerably.

"Mr. Malfoy, it is an honour to see you again," Greg said in a surprisingly cordial tone.

"And you Gregory, it is a shame my son did not stay in contact with you," Draco almost gagged on his words. It had been years since he'd really lied at all, and now he was not only telling aspersions, but the sort that would surely damn him to hell.

Goyle gestured toward the room he'd just vacated. "We have a little treat for you in there. It's the Granger girl. We saved her for you because we figured you might have needs after being in prison for so long, and you always said that she would be a fun one. You can do it before the others start arriving."

Draco inwardly cringed at his father's old rapacious attitude, but he was stunned to hear Hermione was alive. There was still hope of saving her and arresting some of the people on the Ministry's most wanted list.

"I think I might like her now, but I want to see my quarters first. Bring her to me there. And I will need a wand for it as well," Draco demanded.

Dolohov nodded as he led Draco up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor with no pictures or decorations whatsoever on the walls. Draco wanted to ask where they were, but too many questions would raise suspicion. Lucius was always one to act as if he had no questions and found the answers using more calculating methods. The room they had reserved for Lucius was the last in the hallway, and it was richly furnished with teakwood furniture. The same heavy brocade curtains that hung downstairs hung in this room as well. The large four-poster bed was clothed in an expensive duvet made up of deep forest green Egyptian cotton. Draco pulled back the curtain to see the view and he discovered that he had a better view of the cliffs and the water.

There was a private bath in the room, and Draco went in there as soon as he was alone to send a quick message on the coin to Potter. He imagined Harry was jumping for joy now that he knew Hermione was still alive, but Draco had yet to see her condition, she could be barely holding on. He would find a way to get her out of there safely. Draco stared at his father's face for several long minutes in the mirror. Lucius' face was shrunken and sallow. His normally large frame was diminished considerably, and Draco's own robes hung loose, even though Draco had always been rather slimmer than his father. Draco knew he favoured his father in physical appearance but he hoped that as he aged his features would resemble his mother's. He hated looking in the mirror at his own eyes because they reminded him too much of Lucius.

Draco sighed heavily and walked away from the mirror, vowing not to look in one again while in his father's form if he could help it. Before he could dwell on it any further, there was a knock on the door.

Dolohov popped his head in, grinning, "A wand for you, and here is your guest. Now get in there and be a good girl."

Dolohov tossed the wand to Draco, who caught it, as was shoving Hermione in the room. "You might want to seal the door on this one. I think she's fancying escape."

"Don't tell me what to do, Dolohov," Draco said, before slamming the door in Dolohov's face and locking and silencing the room with the borrowed wand. He didn't like how it felt in his hand, but it would do for what he needed it for.

Hermione was standing with her back to the door, her eyes wide with bewilderment. Lucius Malfoy was standing before her despite all her expectations. He wasn't looking at her, but when he did, he regarded her with the same kind of astonishment that she beheld him. Hermione blinked in confusion and fear as Lucius turned his gaze on her and took a few steps forward. She took another one of those embarrassing and damnable involuntary steps backward and hit the door.

Draco had to fight to tear his gaze away from her. She was completely battered. There were bruises and cuts all over her, her dress was ripped, and he knew she'd been raped, but they at least cleaned her up. But her eyes were still the same, full of inquisitiveness, and just the right amount of anger and fear. Draco was relieved to see that she was clearly holding onto her sanity despite what she'd been through.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I'm not Lucius, I'm Draco."

"I don't believe you."

"Good. I would think you a simpleton if you did believe me so easily. But nevertheless, I am going to help you."

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**A/N: This chapter was betaed by blueskyshymoon so everyone send her some good thoughts. She found tons and tons of punctuation errors and must have the patience of Job to go through my stuff. There are probably still more errors in there. At least I wouldn't be surprised if there was. **

**Please review, if you have a minute and the inclination.**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't make money off of this.

Liberation

Chapter 5

Hermione continued to stare at "Lucius" wearily. To be afraid would have been the appropriate reaction, but all vestiges of fear had left her two days ago, slowly to be replaced by anger. Now she was bewildered as well as angry, and the tumult of emotions was not helping her rationality.

"Help me?" she asked as if she hadn't heard him right.

Draco took a moment to really look at her before speaking. She was covered in bruises and by the way she was standing with her arms wrapped around her ribs, he suspected she had some that were broken. If he remembered anything about Goyle and Dolohov, he imagined she had some other injuries in more private places that were fairly severe. Draco fought to keep his face neutral as he took in the state of her dress. On her right arm, in the crook of her elbow, was a cut that was clearly getting infected. Hermione's face was pale and her expression was grim. Draco always knew Hermione to be a motivated person, full of life and feeling. Her passion for learning and her job was obvious, even though he'd only learned of it through the newspapers. The woman standing before him was battered and torn, and he hoped beyond hope that she would be able to recover from whatever atrocities she'd been through. He'd seen too many people go through what she did, and he wanted her to be the last.

Draco motioned for her to sit, which she refused to do, and pulled the Galleon out of his pocket. He sent Harry another message, mentioning that Hermione was with him. "We don't have a lot of time, Granger. I am going to give you this wand, but not until I have convinced you that I am here to help you."

Hermione had never made it a habit to carry on conversations with Lucius Malfoy, but she imagined if she did talk to him, he wouldn't seem so benevolent and kind. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of his son, and Hermione began to wonder if it really was someone else. She refused to believe that the Ministry would let Lucius Malfoy go. Her eyes widened when he palmed the Galleon that clearly had her version of the Protean charm on it.

"Where did you get that galleon?" Hermione demanded.

"From Potter. I am using it to communicate with him. I just told him that you are okay. Like I said, I'm not Lucius, I'm Draco." He pulled the flask out of his pocket and took a swig. "See, Polyjuice. I'm here because no one else knows my father well enough to pretend to be him as well I do."

Hermione reached for the Polyjuice potion slowly. Draco handed it to her, allowed her to sniff it, and then took it back.

"Well, that is indeed Polyjuice." she said.

"Do you need more proof? Do you want to know what I said to you last? Where we were?"

"No, there's no point in that because you could find all that information from the media."

"Listen, like I said, I don't have a lot of time. I am posing as Lucius in order to capture your kidnappers and to save you. I need to be able to lead Potter and Weasley and the rest of the Aurors here. Do you know where we are?"

"No. They brought me directly into the room I've been in since I got here."

"Good. That means I may be able to Apparate you out of here, but it won't be immediately. I have to meet with some people that I am assuming are old friends of my father's, and I can't raise any alarms. Please sit down." Draco said pointing at the chair in front of him as he sat on the bed.

Hermione walked slowly and sat gingerly. Draco grimaced at Hermione's wince of pain as she sat.

"Besides your obvious injuries, have you been through the Cruciatus?" Draco asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Hermione shrugged, but nodded the affirmative.

Draco frowned and looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry, I don't have any healing potions, but if you'll allow me, I can heal your other wounds. That cut on your arm looks like it is getting infected."

"You should see the one on my ribs." Hermione replied without thinking. She quickly bit her lip and looked away. It was surreal talking to "Lucius" but not talking to Lucius. It probably was Draco inside and she should ask for more proof of his identity, but if whoever he was, he had plenty of chances to hurt her and it would not be any different than any other day in that hellhole.

Draco pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Hermione's arm. He silently healed the cut, which closed most of the way.

"It will scar," he said.

Hermione stared down at it. Having that one wound healed made her whole arm feel considerably better.

"Maybe you should leave the bruises so they don't get suspicious," she suggested.

For the first time, Draco allowed the ghost of a smile to grace his features. "You're right. How about that one on your ribs, do you feel comfortable letting me see it?"

Hermione nodded and pulled back the rip in her dress so he could see the injury. Draco grimaced as he saw the jagged stab wound. It was definitely infected, and it was a wonder Hermione wasn't racked with a fever. Then again, maybe she was. She was a strong woman, after all, and he'd already seen her stand up under torture once before. Draco attempted to heal that wound but it looked scarcely better.

"I'm sorry; I'm not great at healing."

"Well, I am." Hermione said, holding her hand out for the wand.

"Please ask me something so I can prove I am not Lucius. I am afraid to hand over this wand for fear that you will hex me or try to Apparate, which you can't do just yet. I will get you out of here but I have to find a way to get the others in." Draco said.

Hermione didn't know what to ask. They hadn't spoken much, and she couldn't think of anything that anybody else wouldn't already know.

"How's Eliza?" she asked, unsure of why she chose that question.

Draco looked at his watch. "Right about now she is waking up in my bed, alone, and undoubtedly angry."

Hermione was stunned by what appeared to be blatant honesty. "Oh."

Draco handed the wand over. "Just take it. If you were to do anything to me, I would deserve it."

Hermione didn't know what to say to his self-deprecating comment. She could tell that he took her lack of response as agreement, but didn't bother to correct him. It seemed that Draco was going through some sort of inner conflict that he needed to resolve on his own. She had her own inner conflicts to handle at the moment.

She was fleetingly tempted to try to Apparate away but if this was really Draco, and she believed it was, she wanted to be there to take down the inglorious bastards who'd kidnapped her. After Hermione healed some of her less inconspicuous wounds, she asked Draco if she could use his bathroom to finish up.

"Please don't try to Apparate away," he admonished again. "I have to tell you what is going on, and I have very little time, so do you mind if I talk through the door? I realise it is uncouth, but we must hurry."

Hermione did understand and left the door slightly cracked. Draco leant against the wall facing away from the door and told Hermione the whole story from what happened after her kidnapping to the moment she arrived in his room. Hermione was crying by the time he finished. Poor Harry and what he must be going through. And now there was Draco helping, and she had no idea how she would be able to repay him for coming to save her. Hermione felt something inside of her shift at the thought of him coming to her rescue at risk of his own life. It was as if the place that Draco resided inside her mind moved forward, closer to the forefront.

Hermione wiped her eyes and stepped out of the bathroom. She was weak and tired, but with her ribs healed and her more private areas healed it was much easier for her to walk out of the bathroom with her back straight and head high. Draco immediately saw the difference, and was relieved to see the change in her stature. Her eyes still looked haunted, and he found he was unable to look into them.

"So, that flask you have will turn into a Portkey in three days?" Hermione said, but it was a rhetorical question. "So, at the end of the three days you could give the flask to me, and I could use it to return to Harry with another Portkey that will bring all of them back here. We just need to figure out where here is."

"That is probably the best plan. I can request that you stay in my room, my father used to do things like that all the time. That way you will be safe from the others, at least, but I cannot promise that you will not be hurt again. If I prevent them from cursing you it will raise suspicion." Draco looked into her hurt eyes apologetically. Then he hardened his expression and looked away again. "But I will ensure you that you don't get gravely injured or raped again."

Hermione saw the anger darkening his eyes from a silvery grey to a hard steely flint. Her stomach did an odd sort of flopping, for the only thing about the man in front of her that resembled Draco in any way was his eyes. She used to think that he favoured his father, but after closer inspection, she couldn't reconcile the Draco Malfoy she saw on the evening of the benefit with the figure of the man in front of her.

"You don't look like your father at all," she said quietly.

Draco looked at her sharply. "What?"

Hermione stepped back quickly, Draco noticed and cringed, worried that he frightened her.

"I just mean that I used to imagine that as you aged you would look more and more like your father, but now I don't think that's true. Your eyes are the same colour, but that is where the similarities end." Hermione said in a small voice.

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He closed it and opened it again to talk about their plan for escape, but snapped it shut again when he heard voices outside the room.

"Get in the bed, quickly. Pinch your face, do something to make it look like you've been crying and pretend to be passed out." Draco said pushing Hermione into the bed. "I'm sorry about what I'm about to do, but I'll get you something else."

Draco pulled out his wand and stuck it under the covers. He carefully used it to rip the Hermione's dress enough to pull it completely from her body and threw it on the floor along with her bra and tattered knickers. Hermione's face turned a crimson colour as Draco divested her clothing. He politely refused to look, but he didn't miss the state of her under things, and he felt another odd pull at his gut. He didn't say anything else, he simply threw open the door to his room and made a show of straightening his robes and fixing his long blond hair.

"Dolohov, your timing is perfect," she heard him say. His voice trailed to nothing as he walked further away. Hermione waited in the bed for a few more minutes before sliding out carefully, wrapping the sheet tightly around her. She walked over to the window and stood to the side of it before she carefully pulled it back, just enough to look outside. She was high up in the building and took in the view of the waves crashing against the cliffs below. There was something familiar about the place they were, and Hermione racked her brain trying to figure it out. She closed her eyes and imagined the place she was in from the outside without a winter tempest beating against the nearby bluff.

A memory of Hermione's ninth birthday came floating through her mind. She remembered visiting a place like this with her parents. Her parents were fascinated with what appeared to be ruins to them, but Hermione could see something much more. She described in great detail the grandeur of the castle and even imagined that she saw the mythical Nessie in the Loch below. Her parents had told her it was all just of a figment of her overactive imagination in that indulging tone they often used before they knew she could do magic, and before they knew she really could see things they didn't. But Urquhart Castle was a popular tourist spot; surely they wouldn't use this place? As if to answer her question, in the distance Hermione could see the long curved back of the Loch Ness Monster gleaming against the water. She couldn't believe how deceptively simple it was. The Aurors would never think to look near a Muggle tourist trap for rogue Pureblood supremacists.

Hermione shuffled back to the bed and lay back down, her heart racing with the discovery, eagerly awaiting Draco's return so they could discuss their current options. Now that she was positive of the location, they could get the Aurors there immediately, and she could stay to help fight. The relief of finding a way out and the comfort of the bed eased the tension in her muscles considerably and she was able to fall into a shallow, but restful, sleep. Sleeping deeply was something she would be unlikely to do until the pain of being violated and cursed dulled to a distant memory, and that could take years.

******************************************************************************Draco followed Dolohov and Goyle back to the room that he'd initially arrived in. The room had been rearranged to allow for a large oak table that was surrounded by several large and comfortable-looking leather chairs. There was more food sprawled out on the table, and eating from it was Draco's own uncle Rodolphus Lestrange. He was mad as a hatter, and Draco imagined he was even more so since his wife was killed the day Voldemort fell. Next to Rodolphus were Julius Jugson and Corbin Yaxley, both Death Eaters.

Draco looked at the trio with an expression of pleasant surprise and hauteur.

"Greetings, my old friends," he said extending his hands in a style very reminiscent to Voldemort himself. The three men practically fell over themselves in their haste to bow at Lucius' feet. Lucius shoved them off quickly, trying not to blench. He took a seat at the head of the table and fixed himself a plate. He made a mental note to get a plate of food to Hermione the first opportunity he got.

"Thank you for my gift, Goyle. You were right. I did enjoy her. So much so in fact, I would prefer to keep her for awhile, if you don't mind." Draco drawled in that way only a Malfoy could do.

"Of course, you may do as you wish," Dolohov replied cordially.

Lestrange leaned back in his chair, twirling his wine goblet around in front of his eyes, watching the blood red liquid swirl inside with fascination. Without looking away from his glass he spoke to Draco.

"You already know of our intentions to begin a new faction against Muggle filth, we hardly need to rehash those details. I believe our first order of business is to release my brother and the rest of our fellows from Azkaban prison."

Draco could not help but look at Rodolphus with interest. Apparently he was shrewder than Draco had assumed. But the way he was staring at the wine in the glass was infinitely creepy. He put the glass down abruptly and faced Draco.

"Lucius, what weaknesses are you aware of at Azkaban? Now that the place is Unplottable, we cannot even send a scouting party, but since it is no longer run by Dementors it should be more accessible once it is located," Rodolphus stated. "How did you leave?"

Draco rubbed his chin and wondered how much he should reveal. In the end he decided to tell the truth, because hopefully they would all be caught before it mattered. Draco was beseeching the heavens for a quick and anticlimactic end to this whole situation.

"You enter from within the Ministry now. There is a special room designed to transport people directly to and from the prison. There is a special charm on the room that prevents the guard from taking anyone to the prison if the guard is under duress, so it would require infiltration of the most discreet kind to gain access to the prison using that portal." Draco took a drink of his wine and waited for Dolohov to absorb the information.

Yaxley, who used to work for the Ministry, was frowning in concentration. Finally, he shook his head slowly, "Scrimgeour wanted to do something like that before we got rid of him. That settles it then. We cannot possibly move forward with our plan without more support. We need our brothers from Azkaban. Tomorrow night at the first official Putus Cruor Confuto meeting we will discuss how to release them. Tell us, Lucius, is there a chance the lovely Narcissa and your son, Draco will be joining us?"

Draco snorted derisively. "Of course not, the brat is the reason I was in Azkaban in the first place, and my lovely wife, well, let's just say I will pay her a visit in due time. For now, they are not to know that I am released."

Draco sent out a mental apology to his mother for having to speak of her in such a way, but it was no secret that she was just as ashamed of her husband as Draco was. She too had testified against him, in his trial out of solidarity for her son. When she'd betrayed Voldemort by being facetious about Harry's beating heart, her husband claimed to have lost all respect for her. It was heartbreaking for Narcissa to know that Lucius was still as attached to his master as ever, but Draco knew that her lie contributed to the downfall of Voldemort, and in his eyes that made her a hero. Harry thought so too, and she was awarded an Order of Merlin Second Class. She accepted the award, but only under the condition that it remained secret what she did. She rightfully feared that Death Eaters would find and kill her for her betrayal.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I would like to take a walk outside. It has been so long since I have enjoyed fresh air." Draco said, pushing his chair out and rising from the table elegantly. Once he stood, he noticed something shiny sitting on the mantelpiece and he went over to investigate. He recognised it as the hair comb Hermione was wearing at the benefit. He had not been able to give it much thought then, other than that it must have been very expensive. Upon closer inspection he could see that he was right. It must have been a gift from Potter.

"Where did this come from?" Draco asked Dolohov, holding up the comb.

Dolohov laughed a little too raucously for Draco's taste as he stood with him. "It is just a little financial backing for our cause. I took it from the Mudblood."

"Hmm, perhaps this little gem will help me persuade my wife to see reason. You know how easily she is bought." _I'm sorry, Mother._ Draco pocketed the comb, intending to give it back to Hermione, "I think I will keep it."

Dolohov looked a little disappointed but he did not argue. "As you wish. I will go with you for your walk, we must be careful here because we are not staying in the sort of fortress you might expect."

Draco looked at Dolohov with one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. Inside, he was burning with the desire to know where he was.

"Very well, then. Take me outside and show me this place, and while we are walking you can tell me who I can expect at this meeting we will have tomorrow night."

Draco followed Dolohov down several corridors and one flight of stairs until they reached what he presumed to be a side entrance, for the door was nondescript and tucked into an alcove.

Dolohov pulled out his wand and disillusioned himself, motioning for Draco to do the same. Draco did as was suggested, and waited impatiently for Dolohov to lead on.

"It is late, so few people should be around, but to be sure, we should disguise ourselves," Dolohov said as he threw open the door, "for we are hiding right out in the open."

Draco had to force himself from gaping at his surroundings. There were only a few people milling about in the dark winter night, but Draco immediately recognised them as Muggles.

"You see, Lucius, we are hiding in a place that the Aurors would never think to look, right amongst the Muggles in the legendary Urquhart Castle," Dolohov said with pride.

Draco bit back a response at how clever that actually was. Instead, he muttered only one word before confidently stepping forward into the night, "Ironic."

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Harry had been pacing for hours. Draco had sent word of where they were located, and the details of the meeting that would occur the following night, including a list of those expected to be in attendance. Most of them were on the Ministry's Most Wanted List. Dawlish had quickly summoned every available Auror and forced them to take a vow of silence about the mission. It was a necessary precaution, because if any of them were involved with the Putus Cruor Confuto, they would be unable to speak, and their betrayal would trigger an alarm at the Ministry. The Aurors accepted that fate with good grace, for it was common practice and although it was extreme, it kept the department honest.

Their plan was extremely simple, for they were going to storm the castle. Draco had mentioned in the few words at a time the coin allowed, that while the hiding place is one that an Auror would not necessarily look for, it was difficult to protect because of its Muggle affiliations. The meeting was to begin at midnight, with an initiation ceremony for all the members, and Harry was hopeful that it would not be ten minutes in before the Aurors arrived. They did have to wait for it to begin, however, in order to get there when the miscreants were least ready to defend themselves.

Draco had also sent a message that while Hermione was all right, she was somehow not alright, and would need treatment when she left. He'd also mentioned that she insisted on staying to fight, and Harry knew that was a battle Draco would lose. As much as Harry wanted her safe and away from harm, he would never be able to force her away from a fight, and that was one of the many things he loved about her.

Harry paused behind his desk to pick up the same picture of Hermione he'd been staring at repeatedly since she disappeared; except for now, folded neatly in the frame, was also a picture of Hermione smiling for the camera at the benefit before she disappeared. Harry unfolded the newsprint photograph and looked longingly at the picture. He did love Hermione a great deal, and her disappearance only reinforced that fact. Harry was beginning to think that maybe it was time to start hinting at a relationship with Hermione. They both agreed that if they were still single at thirty they would give each other a chance. It was five years too soon, but Harry knew that Hermione would need someone more than ever right now, and he wanted it to be him. They were the best of friends, and he knew that to be a solid foundation for a relationship. The hard part would be taking that step forward into the physical. She was always reluctant, and Harry never pushed her, and because of that, he believed he was the only one who knew how in love with Hermione he actually was.

"I know what you're thinking,"

Harry quickly folded the picture up and put it back in the frame. Ron was leaning casually against the doorjamb watching him.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know what you're thinking," Ron said, "you're thinking about Hermione, and what it would be like to be with her."

"Am I that transparent?" Harry dug in a cabinet and found a bottle of Old Ogden's Best Firewhiskey, and offering Ron a glass.

Ron took the glass with a nod and seated himself in front of Harry's desk. "Maybe not to everyone, but I'm your best friend, Harry. I know your career has been important, but it is quite obvious to those of us who know you why you're still single. Hermione has been really absorbed with her work and receives very few offers, despite how beautiful she is."

Ron took a sip of the Firewhiskey, and smacked his lips with satisfaction. "But she's intimidating and around you all the time, so that is to be expected. You, on the other hand, get an offer practically every day. In two years Dawlish is going to retire, you're going to become head of the department, and she's going to be running St. Mungo's completely by then. You would be a powerful couple."

Harry furrowed his brow as he ruminated on Ron's words. "Are you saying that I should go for it? You don't think it will ruin our friendship?"

"I don't think anything could ruin your friendship, as long as you go into it with the understanding that it might not work. I know you could never walk away from Hermione no matter how bad it got, and she is sensible enough to understand from the beginning that it could go awry."

"When did you get so smart?" Harry asked his friend, feeling immensely hopeful about his future.

Ron threw back the rest of his drink in one swallow and grinned at Harry. "Pansy has taught me a lot about being observant. And she might have mentioned that to me once or twice when we lay in bed gossiping about our friends late into the night. Now, go home, get some sleep, we have work to do tomorrow."

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"Have they been feeding you?" Draco asked Hermione, who was attacking the plate of food he'd brought her when he finally managed to get back to his room for the night.

Hermione swallowed thickly and took a large drink of water. She willed herself not to blush at her own behaviour before she spoke. "They fed me twice. I admit, I am hungry and I want to get my strength up. I have not been able to rest properly after torture, and I am very weak. I hate to admit it, but I am."

"You should not be ashamed of that." Draco said quietly. Neither spoke for a few minutes while Hermione ate and Draco stared out the window. In the reflection he could see Hermione slowing down as she ate. At some point she'd put her dress back on, and in the window's muddled reflection he could not discern the tears, and it looked lovely once again.

"You really looked very nice at the benefit," Draco said to the window, "Eliza was looking forward to speaking with you so she could find out who designed your dress."

Hermione's heart fluttered infinitesimally when he complimented her and then she felt a tiny fractional stop in it when she heard him mention Eliza. She vaguely wondered where those feelings were coming from considering it wasn't even really Draco she was looking at.

"Thank you," she replied, chalking her reaction up to his coming to rescue her as if she was suffering from some sort of 'knight in shining armour' syndrome, "Are you and Eliza dating seriously now?"

"Three months now." Draco admitted, turning around to sit down. He pulled the flask of Polyjuice Potion out of his pocket and grimaced as he swallowed. "This stuff is really terrible."

"I know," Hermione muttered, thinking of the two times she'd taken it herself. The first time had gone disastrously wrong, and the second was when she'd transformed into Harry the last day he lived at Privet Drive.

"Do you think you and Eliza will stay together when she finishes her semester here?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked away from her and did not say anything. Hermione could not read the expression in his eyes, but she assumed she made some sort of gaffe, because he was not responding. Hermione realised then that she did not even know if Draco was particularly loquacious in the first place, and it was possible he was not.

"We don't have to make small talk, Granger," he said finally. The truth was that he probably would stay with Eliza. If he could make that one step forward that would lead him to waking up next to her, he might be willing to pursue the relationship after she moved back to America.

"Sorry." Hermione put the plate down on the bedside table and leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes.

"Don't be. I apologise. It is not often that I speak of my feelings, and I do not desire to do so here."

Hermione opened her eyes to see him looking out the window again. He was such a haunted young man, and Hermione could sympathise. Harry too, would often have bouts of sullenness and she was all too aware of the things he'd been through that made her friend that way. She imagined Draco's demons were harder to cope with, because he had not only to face horrors, but to inflict them as well. Hermione had no idea how one overcame such a history. But now, she had more of her own demons to live with, and she understood completely Draco's reluctance to speak. While it was easy for her to ask questions about feelings, she doubted she would be willing to answer any of them herself.

"You ought to get some sleep. Your presence will be required tomorrow and you should be well rested. I highly doubt the day will be pleasant for you." Draco set his wand to alert him every hour through the night to remind him to take his Polyjuice Potion. "It will be expected that I took advantage of you and then fell asleep in the same bed. I hope you don't mind."

Hermione scooted closer to the edge of the bed to allow him room. "Awkward, but I don't mind."

When he sat down on the edge of the bed she rolled over so that she was not facing him, and after a moment she said, "Good night, Draco. Thank you for everything."

It felt almost surreal to hear his own name when he was dressed in his father's body, but hearing his name on her lips had an effect on him that he could not quite identify. Draco was amazed at how calm and collected she was being, after everything that had happened to her. Either she was immensely stronger than he'd originally thought, or she was swimming in a sea of denial. Either way, she was going to need someone to pick up the pieces with her when this was all over. He knew that Harry was waiting eagerly for the opportunity; Draco just hoped that he was up for the task.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading and if you have a moment, leave a review!**

**My beta for this chapter has lots of names, today we are going to call her blueolgeskymeistershymoonfunk08. Some of my sentences look that crazy when I send off a chapter and because of her they now look a little more legible like this... blueskyshymoon08 or olgameisterfunk08. Let's give her a shout out for the good beta work. Whoot**

**And also, we need to do this again for Rose Eleanor Schultz who has more than one name but we will stick with just this one. Between two different betas if there is still a mistake, the fault is none of ours and the blame belongs to minor glitches in technology that deletes and repeats words, steals commas from where they do belong and deposits them where they don't, and messes up my punctuation around my dialogue. If only that were more than partially true... we could blame computers for everything! **

**Thanks again for reading and please review! If you want that is... I will still write the next chapter but if you're anxious for it, I gotta know.**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't make any money off of this.

Liberation

Chapter 6

The next morning Hermione dutifully followed Draco to the meeting room he'd met with Lestrange and his companions the day before. Neither said anything to the other as they walked down the hall, and Hermione played the part of victim very well. She allowed Draco to push her in front of him and kept her head down. They both knew that she was going to be a 'plaything' for those who would be visiting throughout the day, but while Hermione was resolved to deal with it, Draco was racked with guilt because he knew that he would not be able to stop them without blowing his cover. Just before they entered the room and were within earshot of others Draco paused and whispered low to Hermione.

"My father was an opportunist, not a senseless maniac. He took advantage of women but he did not torture them for sport. You will have nothing to fear from me personally today."

Hermione looked at him curiously. The lines in his face hardened and there was a barely perceptible change in his stature as he prepared himself to be 'Lucius'.

"However," he continued in a flat voice, "as I promised you last night, you will not be violated, but I cannot prevent _them_ from too much sport or it will look suspicious."

Hermione fought to roll her eyes at the end of his declaration. She'd lived through the same wars he had, seen some of the same battles, and been tortured too. She was fully aware of what kind of 'sport' he was referring to and was perhaps more prepared to deal with it than he was. She hadn't forgotten the stricken look on his face when Bellatrix was torturing her in the Malfoy Manor so many years ago. Someone like Hermione does not quickly forget the details of the people who want to be saved.

"I assure you, Malfoy, I have lived through worse."

Draco nodded stiffly and turned away from her to open the door. He knew she'd lived through worse as well, but it did nothing to ease his mind. In fact it just made him feel even more guilty for all that she had been through in her life. Looking down on her apologetically, Draco grasped her upper arm tightly and pushed her threw the doorway ahead of him.

"Why don't you go sit over there where I can keep my eye on you?" he drawled cruelly as he thrust her into a nearby hardwood chair. Hermione winced as he did this and not because it caused her any pain, but because Draco was portraying Lucius so well, in manner and speech. Goyle and Dolohov laughed at the genuine fear in Hermione's eyes as they continued to eat, but Draco's expression remained unreadable. He stared down at Hermione with icy eyes for a beat before turning abruptly and seating himself on the other side of the table so he could see her clearly.

"Goyle," Draco said in a tone of dignified superiority, "are you not going to offer our guest breakfast?"

Goyle's mouth hung half open with an enormous quantity of half masticated egg lolling unpleasantly on his tongue. Draco suppressed a grimace and waited for his old school friend to do something. In this sort of situation Goyle would do one of three things. He would blindly get up and fix a plate, he would refuse, or most likely he would do something crude and debasing. Draco was not disappointed. Goyle let the half chewed eggs roll out of his mouth and back onto the plate on top of the remains of his bacon rinds.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I'm finished. The Mudblood can have mine."

Draco wanted to hang his head in shame. There was a point in his life when he would have laughed at such a childish and disgusting antic. Clearly Goyle had not changed at all, and Draco was beginning to believe that he was beyond redemption. Dolohov was still chuckling merrily. Hermione was not even attempting to hide her look of revulsion and she turned her head away from them. Goyle stood up to approach Hermione with the plate and Draco warred with himself over whether he should stop him or not. He had suggested the breakfast but he only did it on the off chance that Goyle actually gave her food she could eat. The poor girl was hungry.

"Here, Mudblood. Breakfast fit for a queen." Goyle shoved the plate under her nose. Hermione nearly vomited what little bile remained in her stomach.

She pushed the plate away from her politely as if she was refusing any ordinary meal. "No thank you, I'm not hungry."

As if to sabotage her own efforts at maintaining some sort of dignity her stomach growled audibly. This caused the dirty man in front of her to laugh raucously. He turned toward Draco and Dolohov with a childish and toothy grin.

"Her belly says she's hungry! You should hear it," he said before turning back to Hermione. "Now take it or I will force feed you."

He scooped up the egg muck and brought it to her face. Just as Draco was going to tell Goyle that was enough because the spectacle was ruining his own breakfast, Hermione smacked Goyle's hand away and the plate with enough force to send it sailing across the table. It skirted past Dolohov's shoulder and shattered as it hit the floor behind him.

"I said I do not want it!" Hermione yelled trying to shrink away from Goyle, who still hadn't reacted. He was so slow Hermione could reach out and snatch his wand from his pocket probably, but Draco would not be able to protect her from what Dolohov would do. Finally, Goyle's face shifted from surprise to rage and he backhanded Hermione hard across the face. Her head whipped around sharply and tears stung her eyes. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth and she spit out one of her front teeth. Tears fell from her eyes but they were purely involuntary, and a result of the pain. She would not cry on account of their abuse.

Draco raised an exasperated hand. "That's enough, Goyle. I'm trying to eat here."

His expression remained calm, but inside his gut was churning with abhorrence. It had been years since such violence was commonplace in his life and what meagre appetite he had to begin with disappeared altogether. The expression on Hermione's face was worrying him slightly as well. Her eyes were so dark they were almost black and she was clenching her jaw so tightly that he wondered how the fine bones in her face did not crack from the pressure. But what frightened him the most was that all softness and compassion had completely left her features. He truly feared that Goyle had broken her somehow with that last blow. Draco was quite able to recognise when emotional chain mail was being worn and he could see Hermione protecting herself one link at a time. The protection was good, but it was extremely difficult to take off, and Draco could testify to that personally for he still wore his.

Dolohov had risen from the table and walked around to Hermione. He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "You see, Mudblood, you are on the wrong side. You have no idea how good it feels to just hurt people who deserve it."

Hermione looked pointedly in his newly healed eye, "I think I have a fair idea."

Dolohov was about to strike Hermione again but Draco could not take it anymore.

"Enough!" he shouted. "We have much to discuss, stop wasting my time."

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Harry and Ron sat huddled together on a hillock about three hundred metres up the coast from Urquhart Castle. They were sharing Harry's Invisibility cloak and a canteen of warmed pumpkin juice. Harry pulled his collar up tight against the chill as he stared at the castle below them. What the Muggles saw as an old ruin in the daytime, was alive with light and activity to Ron and Harry as they watched many figures dressed in black walk in front of candle lit windows. It was very near midnight and Aurors were stationed all around the castle, a few even hovering on brooms over the ocean so that they could invade the castle in a circle. Draco had instructed them to arrive exactly five minutes after the midnight so that the ceremony would have begun.

Ron could feel Harry literally buzzing next to him in anticipation. His green eyes were sparking in the faded light from Ron's Lumos spell. Ron could feel the electric charge of impending battle as well, but where time and maturity had wrought him sensibility, it had turned Harry into hardened fighter with the narrow focus of simply rescue and capture, or kill when unavoidable.

Harry stopped looking at the castle long enough to fish in his pockets for his wand and the Portkey to get Hermione out of the castle. He was prepared to let her stay and fight but only if she was whole and well, otherwise he was sending her directly to St. Mungo's for treatment.

"Are you ready, Ron?"

Ron had been silently visualising the layout of the castle that Draco had managed to describe using the magical coins. He was contemplating the best point of entry from their current vantage that would get them in the hall the former Death Eaters were using for the induction.

"I am ready, Harry. This should be over quickly, we have them outnumbered, and we have the element of surprise."

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Lucius Malfoy never got jittery. He was always a sea of calm on the outside regardless of what was going on around him. Therefore Draco was finding it nearly impossible to keep his father's body from fairly shaking with nervousness and trepidation. There were twenty black clad Pureblood supremacists all surrounding a thoroughly beaten and bleeding Hermione Granger. There was no real initiation ceremony planned but Dolohov thought it would be in good fun to sacrifice the Mudblood to the cause. Draco had not been able to stop the taunting and jeering and had almost become violently ill with the shame and guilt he felt. Hermione was barely holding on to consciousness and she kept looking at Draco but she could not read what her worn out eyes were trying to say. It was four and a half minutes after midnight and despite Draco's best efforts he was not sure he could keep Hermione alive for that much longer. Dolohov had slid his shiny blade from its sheath and was holding the point at Hermione's chin.

"Let me!" Draco shouted as he darted out to snatch the blade from Dolohov. In his haste he wrapped part of his hand around the blade and the sharp knife separated his skin as if it was butter. He could feel warm sticky blood filling the palm of his cupped hand. Draco realised he had just made a very un-Lucius like move and ignored the pain in his hand as he stood straight and turned toward Hermione with the knife. He counted down the seconds in his head as he spoke. _Twenty, nineteen, eighteen..._

"You have had your fun. Let me finish it," Draco said commandingly. _Fourteen, thirteen, twelve... _"Dolohov, why don't you say something appropriate for the moment."

_Seven, six, five..._Draco held the blade aloft in front of Hermione's face. Hermione eyes were blazing as she looked at Draco. Despite the obvious pain she was in, Draco recognised the vehemence in her eyes, she wanted this over just as badly and her weakened body was somehow still rippling with eagerness to fight. _Two, one..._There was a loud splintering crash as every door and window around them shattered with the entrance of more Aurors than Draco could count. He immediately dropped the blade he was holding and scooped Hermione into his arms to remove her from the battle just as he'd promised Harry he would.

"Put me down, Malfoy!" she screamed beating him on the chest. "Give me a wand so I can fight!"

"You are too weak to fight!" he yelled back but he paused in his dash long enough to reach in his pocket and fish out the extra wand he had, nearly dropping her in the process. She took advantage of the moment to wriggle out his arms and landed in a heap on the ground. Draco ducked with her narrowly avoiding a curse that flew over his head. He pushed the wand into her outstretched hand.

Hermione tried to stand but her weak legs were protesting despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins. About half the dark wizards in attendance were stunned and being hauled out by Aurors, but the remainder was fighting to the death. Goyle sent a killing curse straight at the Auror in front of him who dodged in time so that the curse hit the Death Eater behind him instead. Goyle's face twisted with rage and he made to fire another curse at him when he saw Lucius Malfoy helping Hermione to her feet with Harry Potter.

Harry had seen Hermione and Draco fall to the ground from across the room and fought his way over too them. He could see that Hermione was seriously injured and weak, but his heart nearly burst out of his chest at the sight of her. He already had the Portkey grasped in his hand ready to send Hermione away from the quickly ending battle for treatment.

"Hermione!" he gasped when he saw her and pulled her into his arms. Tears fill unbidden from his eyes but no one noticed. Hermione clung to Harry with one arm and Draco with the other.

"Help me up! We have to finish this," she said with determination as she forced her legs to hold firm beneath her.

"No, Hermione, you are going to take this Portkey to St. Mungo's right now," Harry said forcefully as he tried to shove the little statue of an elephant he'd brought with him in her hand. Before Hermione could refuse however, Goyle approached their little group with his wand pointed directly at Draco's face. He appeared to be one of the last of the criminals still standing as Aurors around the room gathered their captives and their injured.

"Traitor," was all he said as he trained his wand on Draco.

Draco released Hermione and took several steps away from her but he kept his eyes locked on Goyle. "You have no idea, Goyle."

Harry made a move to stun Goyle but Draco signalled for him and the other Aurors to lower their wands. This was a fight between him and his former best friend, no one else. The effects of the Polyjuice were wearing off nicely and soon Goyle would see exactly who the traitor was. Goyle's face went from twisted with rage to confused and finally back to twisted rage as he saw Lucius turn into Draco. Draco watched with mild amusement at how often Goyle's face would shift from one expression to another.

"Draco!" he said unable to suppress his surprise.

Draco took a few steps even further from Hermione and Harry, the latter still trying to convince the former to take the Portkey.

"That's right, Greg. Did you honestly think the Ministry was going to release Lucius to you? You may be a little crueler now than you used to be, but thankfully you are all still just as stupid."

Draco had walked what he felt was a safe enough distance from Hermione to now start throwing curses without her getting hurt. He raised his wand steadily. "I tried to help you, Greg. I could have helped you out of all this."

Goyle guffawed loudly, "For what? You have nothing I want."

"I have my freedom. You _should_ want that," Draco said carefully. He could sense Goyle getting ready to hex.

Goyle looked at Draco with consideration for a moment and then his eyes glinted with malice. "Well then maybe, I will just take your freedom from you. Avada Kedavra!"

Several things happened at once. Harry sent his own stunning spell at Goyle just as he heard him utter the first word of the Killing curse causing Goyle's aim to go awry, Draco attempted to move out of the way of the green jet of light, and Harry finally shoved the Portkey into Hermione's outstretched hand as she reached out towards Draco. She felt the familiar tug behind her navel but it did not pull her away before she saw the jet of green light graze Draco's hip and send him sprawling across the room.

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**A/N: Sorry for the long wait for the update. I got a bit distracted from writing. This chapter is not beta'd because I wanted to get it posted so any changes in it will be strictly grammatical. I don't think there are so many mistakes in it that the chapter is unreadable. **

**Reviews would be appreciated! Dramione's are hard for me to write for some reason so it helps to hear what people think. With so many stories to choose from on the site it is difficult to really know what people are looking for. **

**Anyway... short chapter but thanks for reading!!!**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't make any money from this.

Liberation

Chapter 7

Hermione landed with a loud thud in the emergency ward of St. Mungo's Hospital. The attending Mediwizard was chatting with the night receptionist in the otherwise empty waiting room. They started loudly when they heard her arrive and jumped back from each other as if being caught doing something illicit.

"Hermione Granger!" the Mediwizard, who Hermione remembered was unfortunately called Ira, gasped in surprise. He rushed over to Hermione to help her stand.

"I need to get to the Ministry!" Hermione shouted trying to pull her arm out of Ira's grasp. She was weak and in pain but all she could think about was getting to the Ministry to speak with someone about Draco and to make sure Harry and Ron were alright. Her instincts refused to agree with what her eyes had just seen. Draco could not be dead, not on her account.

"No, Ms. Granger, you are seriously injured and need attending to," Ira forced Hermione through the door behind the reception desk despite all her struggling. "Jackie, call Susan Mainwaring. She will want to know that Hermione has returned."

Jackie immediately dashed a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace and called for Hermione's boss. Five minutes later Susan was in Hermione's hospital room trying to convince the young woman that she needed to rest and could talk about her experiences later. Hermione vanished the sleeping draught that Ira had offered her three times before he had the good sense to take away her wand. She sent the fourth one flying out of his hand just as she'd done with plate of disgusting food Goyle had offered her the previous morning.

"I will not rest until I know that Harry is alright. I must speak with him. If you will not let me leave to the Ministry for news then go fetch someone to come to me!" Hermione shouted as she attempted and failed to stand on her own once more. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off she was beginning to think that weakened state of her legs was due to a seriously injured and possibly broken femur. Her left leg was killing her and she honestly could not remember standing without assistance since Lestrange had thought to plant his heavy boot on her thigh. "DAMN IT!" she screamed.

A nervous looking Jackie popped her head into the room and looked at Hermione wearily. Her night was about to become very interesting. "Mrs. Mainwaring, I think we are going to need more assistance tonight. Harry Potter is here with some Aurors who need minor assistance and Draco Malfoy who needs a lot. I told him to wait out-,"

Jackie's speech was cut off by a very irate Harry Potter as he stormed into the room. "What does one have to do to get help around here? This is a hospital for crying out loud! Where is everybody? Hermione!"

Harry bolted over to the bed where Hermione was stubbornly trying to stand up yet again. Susan sent Ira out to get help for Draco and the other Aurors.

"Oh god, Hermione, now that I see you again I can see how bad you look!" Harry pushed Hermione back onto the bed and pulled her into a bone crushing hug. He buried his face in her hair for a moment before planting a kiss on her forehead and looking in her eyes. They were slightly distant but unfocused with concern and Harry was relieved to see that she was still, Hermione. Maybe she hadn't been tortured beyond what he could see. Draco had not eluded otherwise.

"It's not as bad as it must look. Draco, Harry. Did you say Malfoy is alive?" she asked incredulously. "But before I left I saw the Killing Curse hit him!"

"It did, it grazed his hip and injured him badly but it did not kill him," Harry said his eyes still roving over Hermione's body for other signs of damage.

"Harry! Stop looking me over and tell me what happened. Nobody is supposed to survive that curse even if it grazes you," she said getting frustrated with his dawdling.

"We thought he was dead too, but when I went over to collect his body he was lying on the ground moaning. The curse hit him on his hip pocket and there was something in there that shielded the curse. Unfortunately it didn't stop the force of it from shattering his hip and pelvis," Harry continued still unable to let go of Hermione or tear his gaze away from her. "In a way it was you who saved him."

"Me?" she asked, stunned. "How did I help?"

"Diamonds and emeralds," Harry said dramatically. "He'd found the hair comb you were wearing the night you disappeared and it was in his pocket. The curse hit it, and we all know hard precious gems make excellent armour."

Hermione slumped back against the pillows absorbing the news. "Then you saved him too, Harry. You bought me the comb," was all she could think to say.

Susan Mainwaring was listening to the story with a hand over her mouth. Hermione imagined she must be out of her mind with confusion but she was too confused herself to care. Finally she looked at Harry and the love and concern in his face brought her mind back into sharp focus.

"Harry, what about you? Are you alright?" she asked reaching up and touching a short gash just below his right ear.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "I am fine, just grateful you are alive. Although, you are missing a tooth."

Hermione stuck her tongue in the hole along her gums where Goyle had knocked out her tooth.

"I will take care of it," Susan said finally regaining her ability to speak. "I will personally heal her, Mr. Potter. Then I want to know exactly what is going on and where you have been this whole time."

Harry nodded at Susan in acknowledgement and turned toward Hermione again. "I am going to go check in on Malfoy and then I will be back. I want to hear everything too, but it can wait until you have had some rest."

_You don't want to hear _everything, _Harry. Trust me on that, _Hermione thought. "I will tell you what I can."

Harry kissed her forehead once more and left to go see Draco. Hermione watched him leave sadly. She would never be able to tell him what it was really like for her. It would destroy him and make him hell bent on revenge and she could not do that to her friend. Neither was she virtuous anymore and she knew that Harry loved her and wanted to be with her, but she couldn't offer herself to him, or anyone. The thought filled her with a sadness she didn't believe possible and she neither spoke nor thought while Susan attended to her many injuries, beginning with the replacing her missing tooth.

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Harry found Draco choking down a large glassful of Skelegro. He was in a private room and the healers were more than happy to leave Harry alone with him. Draco Malfoy was not a pleasant patient.

"Potter," Draco acknowledged when Harry entered the room and sat by his bed.

Harry regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. Despite the pain Draco was obviously in he still looked calm, collected, and slightly haughty. Draco Malfoy was intelligent, rich, handsome, and now he was able to add hero to his resume. Harry was reluctant to admit that Draco Malfoy really was good Wizarding stock despite his rocky beginnings, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Malfoy _looked_ like a hero somehow.

"What asinine sentimental thing are you thinking about now, Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly if not a little defensively. "You're alright then?"

Draco said nothing but gave a half nod. "How is Granger?"

"Better now that she knows you are alive. We are all grateful and if that curse had gotten you I would never be able to forgive myself, and neither would she."

"Of course, Gryffindors are martyrs as well as heroes," Draco drawled sarcastically but he did not put much effort into it. "Ironic how when I am about to take the curse for a good cause it is you who inadvertently saves me."

"I did not save you. You put the comb in your pocket, not me. Listen, this story is going to be plastered all over the papers within a day. Is there anyone you want us to bring to you so you can tell them the truth about where you've been? Your mother perhaps, or Eliza?" Harry asked, and then added as if an afterthought, "Can I see the comb again?"

Harry saw it when Draco pulled it out of his pocket at the castle. It was still whole but misshapen and the diamonds and rubies had melted together in the area where the curse had hit it directly.

"I lost track of what happened to it at the castle," Draco said without looking at Harry. "Would you please send a message to Eliza and my mother both to come see me? But not together, I want to see them separately."

Draco thought about Eliza and the last time he'd seen her. It felt like much more than two long days since he'd gone away. He had thought of her right before the curse hit, and Hermione. Eliza because he didn't want to die with the last thing he'd said to her being a lie about searching for the Ankh, and Hermione because it had hit him squarely in the chest in that moment that he was just as surely dying for her as well as anyone else. She was the reason he was there in the first place. They had hardly spoken while they were together at the castle but they had been very intimate and he found himself wishing he'd asked her more questions about her life. He wished he could have protected her from Goyle and Dolohov's brutality, but he knew she would recover. She was hurt, but she was not broken. Draco did doubt however, that the touch of a man was something she would be receptive to anytime soon.

He did want to tell Eliza the truth because he did want to be with her. She was a great person and deserved a chance and he had to be fair by being honest. Knowing her she would fall head over heals in love with him because of his new 'heroic' status.

Harry nodded his understanding and shook Draco's hand before leaving the room. Draco spared a moment to wonder what it would have been like if Harry had accepted his offer of friendship on the train their first day. Not for the first time, Draco truly believed that Harry would have been a good influence on him. But he would rather eat a Hippogriff alive, feathers and all, than admit that aloud to a soul. Draco did lie to Harry about the comb though. As soon as the door clicked shut, Draco slid his hand under the sheet to pick up the hair comb. He thought maybe he should return it, but he wanted to keep it as a reminder of how precarious one's life truly is. Draco was a collector, and this piece would perhaps become the most priceless in his collection.

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"There, there, Victoire. It is just a scratch," Hermione soothed the little girl as she healed a cut on her knee. She turned and glared at Teddy Lupin who was watching with an apologetic expression. He was only six years old but the boy managed to get in trouble worthy of any Marauder's son.

"I didn't think she would actually do it," he mumbled quietly. "I'm sorry, Victoire."

"It's okay," she sniffled. Hermione helped Victoire to her feet and picked up Harry's broomstick off the floor. Teddy had somehow talked the little girl into mounting it and of course it had taken off and crashed into the wall. Hermione was in the kitchen making the kids lunch when it happened and had ran into the room to see Victoire crying on the floor nursing her wounded knee. Teddy's normally vivid blue hair had turned a dull brown in his fear of punishment.

"Lunch is ready and Harry and your grandmother should be here any minute now. We will discuss your punishments then."

"Yes Aunt Hermione," they both said quietly as they made their way to the table. Hermione sighed as she put the broomstick away. She'd told Harry a million times to put that thing out of sight when the kids were around but Harry was determined that exposure to his racing broom would somehow make his godson a talented flyer by osmosis. The next time Hermione babysat she would just have to make it a point to make sure it was locked up. Hermione returned to the kitchen and settled into the seat across from the children. She poured herself a cup of strong tea and stirred in milk thoughtfully.

"Aunt Hermione," Victoire asked quietly. "Are we in a lot of trouble?"

Hermione smiled warmly at the little girl. She'd seen a lot of guilty faces on injured children at her job. Every now and then a seriously ill child came through the children's emergency ward but mostly it was kids who'd broken bones or needed stitches because of some normal childhood accident.

"I don't think you will be in much trouble, but that is for your parents to decide. I do think that Harry needs to have a long talk with both of you about broomstick safety and I am a little disappointed you touched something that is clearly not a toy. Victoire could have done herself a serious injury. I want to be able to trust you to be alone for a few minutes while I do things around the house. I know your parents would appreciate that as well," Hermione said in her best 'I am lecturing you but not trying to sound like I'm lecturing you' voice.

The kids ate in silence for a few more minutes while Hermione allowed her mind to wander. She wondered if she would ever have children of her own and found herself not really sure if she wanted them. She was around kids of all ages every day and had spent a considerable amount of time with Teddy over the years watching him grow up. Harry had the boy around frequently and Hermione was always eager to visit too.

Hermione thought wistfully of Harry. He had not pushed Hermione for a relationship with words but he had taken to acting as if they were a couple. She'd never told him everything that had happened to her two months previously when she was kidnapped and Draco had reportedly kept his mouth shut. Luckily or unluckily, depending on the perspective, neither Dolohov nor Goyle had survived to tell the tale. Dolohov was killed in the skirmish at the castle and Goyle had fought with prison guards in an argument that eventually cost him his life. That had happened before he was able to testify his part in the kidnapping. So, that left Draco as the only person who knew what had actually happened to her even if he only deduced it and she'd never actually told him. Her use of the bathroom to heal her wounds was all the confirmation he'd needed.

Hermione had been unable to face Draco after her rescue. She didn't necessarily feel sorry for herself and she'd been able to return to her life as normal, but she still had the nagging feeling that she was damaged goods and still had nightmares about rape and torture. She knew she needed to talk to someone and have some sort of therapeutic release, but despite herself she was not ready to admit to anyone that it had happened to her. To her immense relief she'd found out through research that many women felt that way, but it did not make her understand why she was being the same way. She understood with perfect clarity that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but all the same, Harry didn't know and she couldn't look Draco in the eye.

As if her consternation summoned him, Harry came swooping into the kitchen with Andromeda Tonks and Bill Weasley on his heels. Bill scooped up Victoire who squealed with delight and Andromeda leaned over to kiss her grandson hello. Harry went straight to Hermione and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Bill gave a small smile at the exchange. The entire Weasley clan and most of their friends were taking it for granted that Hermione and Harry were a couple. Hermione had said nothing to dispel them from their illusion and was always amiable when Harry publicly showed his affection. The time was coming when they would have to talk about where they stood though because it was clear Harry was desirous for more.

"I wasn't expecting all of you at the same time," Hermione said as she served tea to all the newcomers. "Although, you have good timing because we just had a little incident."

Andromeda and Bill listened with raised eyebrows to the story about the broomstick. Harry sat beside the children as if he was just as guilty as they, and in a way he was. At the end Harry took Victoire and Teddy aside to explain to them the dangers of riding on a broom without supervision or lessons. Hermione observed them silently wondering once again if she would ever want children. She wondered if she would ever want children with Harry. He wanted them and would make a doting father, but Hermione couldn't picture herself having children with him or anyone. The thought broke her heart because she knew Harry would be good for her.

After everyone left Harry flopped on the couch in exhaustion.

"Rough day?" Hermione asked sitting next to him. Harry reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. It was familiar and comfortable and Hermione appreciated the contact.

"Work was tiring what with all the field drills we've been doing lately. Ron invited you and me for dinner with Pansy and him this weekend," Harry said.

"Sounds nice," Hermione replied. Dinner with Ron and Pansy was never dull. She loved Ron before but with Pansy he was a much more entertaining host. Hermione turned her head to find Harry watching her intently. It was clear from his expression that there was more he wanted to say.

"They invited Draco and Eliza too," he said. "I know you have been kind of avoiding Malfoy since you came home."

Hermione managed to keep her body from stiffening. "I'm hardly avoiding him Harry. We didn't see each other very often before the benefit; we just haven't seen each other at all since."

"He thinks you hate him."

"Of course I don't. It will be great. I'm looking forward to it," she said sincerely. She was telling the truth. Hermione didn't avoid Draco on purpose; she simply had not seen him. On a few occasions she considered writing him and thanking him for everything he'd done, but did not. Something told her he understood her reticence. He in turn had not followed up with her although both had inquired on the other's well being through friends. "Does he really think I hate him?"

"Maybe not, but he did ask how you are. He mentioned that you hadn't seen each other," Harry rubbed Hermione's palm with the pad of his thumb.

"I don't hate him. I am grateful to him, eternally, and I will let him know if you think it would make him fell better," she said quietly.

Harry laughed, "I don't think it will make him feel better as much as it would make you feel better."

Hermione was surprised at how sage Harry was being because he was absolutely right. She was forcibly reminded for the third time that day how important talking about everything was.

"There is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about," Harry continued. Hermione gave him her full attention.

"Yes?"

"I want to attend dinner at Pansy and Ron's as an official couple. You know how I feel about you and you haven't exactly rejected what advances I have made. I know you are busy with work and recovering, but I think we should give having more a real chance."

Hermione looked into Harry's warm green eyes. He really was a very handsome young man and Hermione would be extremely lucky to have him. Hermione was very much in love with him as a first year experiencing her first crush, but that love had deepened into something much more and it would weather anything. Even a failed attempt at romance if that is what it turned out to be.

"Under two conditions," Hermione said to a stunned Harry who looked at her with a worried frown. "One, if something happens and we do not work out; we will always be best friends. And two, if you find that someone else comes along, you will not be afraid to tell me."

Harry gripped her hand, "Hermione, you make it sound as if you know that I am going to leave you. I don't feel comfortable making promises that foreshadow doom for our relationship."

"Then perhaps we should not officially declare ourselves a couple yet. There are reasons why I am afraid of it not working out that don't have anything to do with you, and I don't want to break your heart anymore than you want to break mine," Hermione reached for Harry's other hand so that she was holding both of them. "I care about you so much, Harry. I just get the feeling that you pity me and that you want to be with me because I don't date or get offers. I _know_ you do get offers regularly and I don't want you to be with me because you think no one else will."

Harry pulled Hermione into her arms and held her tight. "Oh, Hermione. I love you and I have waited for you for years. Just give me a chance."

"Of course, Harry. I love you too," Hermione whispered into his chest. It was easy to say yes, the hard part would be moving forward with him.

Harry lifted Hermione's chin and kissed her gently. His lips were warm and slightly moist but they were soft and it was not at all unpleasant. Hermione feared that kissing Harry would feel like kissing her brother but it wasn't like that at all. It was like kissing her best friend, safe and comfortable. If life offered her no other prospects, she could have done much worse. But would he want to be with her when he found out that she had been taken advantage of in the worst possible way? Of course he would, but she wasn't sure she would want him. She had scars down _there_ that she wanted no one to see.

"I wish you would talk to me," Harry traced Hermione's cheek with his knuckles, "you seem so secretive since you were kidnapped. Sometimes I think you aren't telling me everything that happened."

"I didn't tell you _everything,_ but I will be okay. I'm really okay, I am just still getting used to everything is all. New job, now a new boyfriend, being the centre of media attention. I am a little bit overwhelmed," she hoped he wouldn't press her for more details because her resolve was weakening.

"Well, I am here for you always."

"I know."

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In the two months that had passed since Draco assisted the Ministry he still had yet to wake up next to Eliza. She was of course supportive of Draco when she found out where he'd really gone and more than revelled in the attention he got from the media. That actually disappointed Draco slightly because it reminded him of the many vapid women he'd dated who were always eager to be caught by a camera. Other than that she was her usual happy self and Draco still enjoyed spending time with her. But his heart still remained superficial. He even took to spending the night at her flat rather than she at the manor so that his excuses for not waking up next to her would be easier to come up with.

Eliza took it all in with good grace. She was a month away from taking her final exams for the term and had to decide if she would be returning to America to finish her education or stay in England. Draco believed he would be happy either way, however he feared that if she left he would do the cowardly thing and let their relationship dissolve, and that is not what he wanted to do. He wanted to make something work and prove to himself that he was growing. He wasn't sure if there was even such a thing as a soul mate or if Eliza would fit the bill but they were compatible and he felt he had no excuse for not making it work.

"Will you be spending the night tonight?" Eliza asked over dinner.

Draco shook his head. "I have to get up early to meet with my associates about scheduling an actual trip to Egypt."

"Ahh, the elusive Ankh. Really going for it now?"

Draco appreciated the fact that she didn't comment on his refusal to spend the night yet again. She wanted to, he could sense it as if it was coming out of her in waves, but she politely refrained.

"I truly believe I know where it is. If I could just find it, it would be the piece de resistance for my collection. It is such a fascinating story," Draco replied, excitement building in his voice. He loved the stories behind his artefacts. Eliza liked most of them too but she was political magical historian and focused on people more than things. Draco was fascinated with relics while Eliza tended to associate them with fairy tales. But he found them more real and important than the histories of politicians whose lives were filled with artifice and duplicity.

"We've been invited to Pansy's house for dinner this weekend with Potter and Granger."

Eliza smiled widely and clapped her hands together. Draco swirled the wine in his glass and watched her with mild amusement.

"Goody! I finally get to talk to Hermione. I've been wondering why you don't invite her over to talk about things. I am sure she wants to thank you for helping her."

"I don't want her to thank me. It is not necessary," Draco replied trying to decide if he found her Americanisms annoying or endearing. For the moment he was going to settle on endearing because she meant well. "I imagine you will have plenty opportunity to speak with her this weekend, but please do not press her for information. Those few days were rather unpleasant for her."

"Hmm, you are very protective of her. What did happen?" Eliza pressed Draco for information instead. It took a fraction of a second to go from endeared to annoyed. If anyone understood the importance of locking away one's demons and keeping another's secrets, it was Draco. Eliza didn't suffer through war like he did; she was too young and too far away. The girl was only nineteen after all.

"That Eliza, is absolutely none of your business. I will not divulge Granger's personal business to you or anyone," he replied, his steely eyes boring into hers.

Eliza was not daunted by his gaze which made Draco realise that she really didn't know him that well at all. "Not even Potter? He is an Auror, after all."

"Especially not Potter. It is entirely too personal and I would like to change the subject."

"Fine," Eliza said quietly, finally properly daunted enough to stop talking. She stood up and walked over to Draco's chair and sat on his lap. She plucked his wine glass out of his hand before bending over to kiss him deeply. "I can think of something else to do."

Draco kissed her lightly on the lips before gently pushing her off of his lap. "I really do have to go tonight, Eliza, perhaps tomorrow?"

She pouted slightly at the rejection but perked up when he suggested the following day. "Will you spend the night with me?"

Draco dragged a hand through his hair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. When he looked at Eliza she was watching him expectantly with a sad expression in her young blue eyes.

"Eliza, I enjoy being with you very much, but spending a whole night represents a level of intimacy I am not ready for. Please don't think it means I don't care."

"I don't."

It was clear she was lying but Draco knew the only thing that would reassure her was the one thing he could not give her yet, if ever. He leaned over and kissed her again before pulling on his coat.

"Good night, Eliza," was all he said before he Apparated directly outside the gates of the Malfoy Manor.

The Manor looked dark and unforgiving at night but in the daytime it was a stunning red brick Edwardian mansion with large white pillars along the front. The wrought iron gates flanking the front were shiny and creak free as he pushed them open. The lawn was patched with the remains of the last snow and Draco knew that soon rain would wash it away completely. Draco was a winter man. He didn't like the way spring was always muddy and made sure that the asphalt path he'd installed in the front garden was always free of whatever weather was visiting. It was magically charmed to repel rain and snow so that one may enter the house dry and with clean feet.

It was still fairly early and Draco was not surprised to see his mother in the sitting room nursing a glass of wine and reading a novel. He stopped in to say hello and then went up to his room summoning Tumnus along the way to bring a cup of tea to his room. Draco spent an hour or so reviewing his notes on the Egyptian Pyramids before putting them away. He had them memorised and was finding it difficult to concentrate. Lying next to his bed on a small table was Hermione's hair comb. He picked it up and turned it over and over again as he was wont to do more and more lately. The mangled hair comb had a complex history now, and Draco loved his stories, but something told him that this particular one wasn't over yet.

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**A/N: Next chapter, Hermione and Draco finally see each other again. **

**This chapter has not been beta read because I am feeling impatient. All mistakes are of course, mine but I did send it off and will fix the nitpicky comma details and repost it. There will be no changes to plot or anything. **

**Thanks to my reviewers! It is amazing how just a few words makes a writer feel really, really good. **


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't want to get sued, so not only do I have to admit that I am not JKR, I have to stop using offensive language at work.

Liberation Chapter 8

Hermione stared at her foggy reflection in her bathroom mirror until the steamy haze disappeared completely, and she could see her face clearly. Even after the refreshing shower her eyes still looked tired and shadowed. The last few days at work had been really busy with a bout of call outs because of a flu virus going around. Thankfully, Hermione had yet to catch the actual virus, and it would only take a simple potion to set her right in a day or so if she did, but the extra hours were strenuous all the same. Her strange decision to agree to have a relationship with Harry was keeping her up nights too.

She knew it was not an irrational decision considering they were compatible in several ways, but there was no burning passion. Hermione had no idea if that was because she was incapable of such sentiment, or if it was because Harry was wrong for her somehow. Either way, being with him was not going to work out because at the minimum, the timing was off, and Hermione was going to tell him so before they left for Pansy's party. If that made him upset to where he did not want to go, then so be it, Pansy and Ron would understand. She simply could not imagine the farce continuing. But as she stared at her blank and almost lifeless expression in the mirror, she could not think of a single reason why anyone besides Harry would want to be with her. If she was not good enough for any bloke off the street, then she was certainly not good enough for Harry. He was too special, and her self-esteem was too low.

"You really need to get some help," Hermione's reflection told her.

Hermione stiffened her shoulders at the charmed reflection and glared back at herself indignantly. "I will be just fine. Just because Harry is the only man who has ever shown interest in me, does not mean I am not happy, or need help."

"You are talking to yourself," the mirror Hermione replied with a raised eyebrow, "and you are assuming that no one wants you, but you have been married to your work, and unapproachable. Stop using what happened to you when you were kidnapped as a crutch, Hermione. You did not think you were good enough before, and you don't now. Nothing has changed."

Hermione frowned at her reflection for another minute, which looked back at her with a look of superiority, arms crossed, and a smirk completing the effect. Her own scars seemed to be staring back at her as well, as if accusing her of being ashamed of them.

"I never should have let George give me this mirror," she said before taking the thing down and putting it in her closet, replacing it with the original un-charmed mirror the bathroom came with. It was one thing to have internal conversations with one's self, but to be put in a situation where she could tell herself off was a bit more than she could handle at the moment. But the mirror Hermione was right, and the real Hermione knew it. No one was as hard on herself as she was, and that had to be intimidating to others. She'd just never really thought of it that way before. Hermione was always sensible and calculated, rarely spontaneous, and even more rarely did she allow her instincts to override her sensibilities. Her instincts had told her that Harry was not a good choice for a romantic partner, but her brain told her it was rational and acceptable so she went with it. Harry was excellent at following one's gut; surely he felt the wrongness too. But then again, his judgment was clouded by his desire to protect Hermione, and Hermione believed that Harry convinced himself this was the right thing to do.

Hermione put on her favourite set of dress robes that were a deep hue of jade and made out of silk. They were dressy and tasteful and she only wore them on occasion, preferring gowns for events that required more formal attire. But dress robes were a particular favourite of hers because they represented magic and the world that was completely different from the one she'd grown up in. She could wear gowns to any old Muggle event but dress robes were special. She fussed with her wild mane of hair for a good thirty minutes before settling on just enough Sleakeasy's Hair Potion to keep the frizz at bay, allowing her brunette curls to cascade down her back. Finally, she smoothed just enough eye shadow over her eyes to bring out the hints of green in the otherwise boring brown.

Standing back a few feet from the mirror so she could see the whole effect, Hermione decided that she was passable. Pansy was always radiant, and Draco's date had been stunning the night Hermione had first met her, and would no doubt still be stunning at the dinner. Hermione figured it was an exercise in futility to try to compete with their glamour. She just did not have the time or the energy to look like she stepped off of a runway every day like Pansy seemed too. It was no wonder Ron was crazy about her, she was beautiful, and not at all pug faced like everybody used to claim when she was younger. Ron was just shallow enough to care about those things, and Pansy was vain enough to like that about him. Hermione cringed inwardly at the crush she used to have on Ron during her school days. That would have been an even worse match than her and Harry.

Hermione cast aside all thoughts of her love life and settled onto her couch to await Harry's arrival. She pulled Crookshanks onto her lap and stroked the old cat's back for a few minutes as he purred contentedly. Hermione could feel his chest rattling away on her legs and wondered how long the ginger beast had left. He was getting on in years, and Hermione knew she was going to be devastated when her faithful familiar finally passed on. She didn't have long to dwell on the thought though because the rush of the floo announced Harry's arrival and the noise sent Crookshanks scurrying as fast as his old, bandy legs could carry him. He was getting more and more skittish as he aged.

"Sorry about that," Harry said as he dusted off the ash from the fireplace, "I didn't mean to frighten him."

Hermione stood up and likewise brushed the loose cat hairs off her robes before allowing Harry to pull her into his arms give her a kiss on the cheek. "It's all right."

"You look great, Hermione, but why did you want to me to come so early? Not that I mind..."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's playful grin. If only he knew that she was about to dash his hopes.

"Would you like a drink?" Hermione didn't wait for a response, instead pouring them both a generous three fingers of Old Ogden's from her small but well stocked liquor cabinet. She glanced at the Henri IV, Dudognon Héritage Cognac wistfully. It was an extravagant bottle of liquor, and she was hardly a lush, but she looked forward to the occasion that would be special enough to crack open that particular libation. This evening, however, was a Firewhiskey evening.

Harry eyed the glass of whiskey that Hermione shoved in his hand warily. "What's going on, Hermione? It's a bit soon to be drinking, don't you think? Especially considering that we will probably leave Pansy and Ron's completely pissed like we always do."

"Well then, what's a little head start?" Hermione said laughing manically. "Have a seat, Harry."

Harry sat and watched with astonishment as Hermione threw back the entire tumbler of whiskey in two large, but quick swallows. She closed her eyes as a look of satisfaction passed over her face, and she hardly shuddered at all as the whiskey burned down her throat. Harry could not help but think how frightening she could be sometimes. He took a quick sip of his own drink to hide the fact he was staring when she opened her eyes to look at him.

"We have to break up," Hermione said quickly before she lost her nerve. "I love you, and I think you would be wonderful for me, but something is not right, and for the first time I am going to listen to my instincts. You have to feel it is wrong on some level too."

Harry considered Hermione carefully before speaking. She was hurting him more than he could ever let on, but he'd promised her they would always be friends. "Do you still believe that I am with you out of pity?"

"No!" Hermione said vehemently, "I can't really explain what it is, Harry. I love you, and I mean that. I am perfectly comfortable with you, I just know it won't work, and rather than try to force it to, I want to be honest. For both our sakes."

"Is it gross for you, like kissing your brother?" Harry asked with a grimace.

Hermione could not help but give him a smile, and it was warm and genuine. "Surprisingly, no. It is not like that at all. If we were forty and still single and making good on our pact to be with each other, then it would be different, perhaps. Maybe we should give each other another chance to find someone else. We have been joined at the hip for so long, and everyone just assumed we were together before we officially were, maybe that's one reason why we are single."

"Maybe you, _I'm_ single because I held out for you. Apparently longer than I should have. Are you saying that people don't want you because of me, and that we spend too much time together?" Harry was beginning to get angry. "And why are you telling me this now, right before we are due at dinner party?"

"I'm telling you now because of the dinner party! I don't want to pretend while we are there, and I love spending time with you. I couldn't imagine my life without you; I just don't want to take that particular path. Harry, you promised me you would understand if it came down to this." Hermione's voice was shaking as she fought tears.

Harry downed the rest of his drink, not even attempting to hide the shudder that coursed through him as the liquor left a trail of fire in its wake. "I wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. I really don't know how to respond."

Hermione mumbled something apologetic under her breath, but still would not look at him. Instead she turned the whiskey glass over and over in palm, watching as the firelight reflected prisms off the diamond shaped cuttings on the bottom of the glass.

"No, don't apologise. I was indignant at first because I was being rejected, but you're right. This would never work, at least not now. I don't know what I was thinking." Harry forced a shaky laugh.

Hermione turned toward Harry allowing the tears spill in her relief. "I know what I was thinking. I was thinking you would never hurt me, and it would be a safe option. I was being pragmatic so I accepted when I know I should not have. Do you forgive me?"

Harry wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb before pulling her close. "There is nothing to forgive, dear Hermione. You are my best friend, always will be, whether you like it or not. Do you still want to go?"

Hermione nodded against his chest. She really did want to go, her instincts told her it was the right thing to do, and listening to her instincts appeared to be the order of the day. It felt good and freeing to not rationalise every little thing. "I just need to fix my makeup."

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Pansy and Ron pulled out all the stops for this particular dinner party. Every inch of their manor seemed to be scrubbed and gleaming afresh from the darkest corner to the new airy curtains in the windows that were letting in more light than they let out. The Parkinson Manor itself was not extravagant in the same way the Malfoy Manor was but it was beautiful in its Victorian tradition, made of brick with white trim and black shutters. The inside boasted of marble floors, rare and expensive portraits, gold filigree around all the baseboards, and highly polished cherry and teak furniture. The grand fireplace in the ballroom was adorned with cherubs carved by Bernini himself that the Parkinson's acquired from Italy several generations ago.

The Malfoy Manor had similar accoutrement, but what Draco appreciated about the Parkinson Manor was the air, the openness, and the welcoming feeling it had about it. Ron's influence in the warmth of the Manor was evident, and combined with Pansy's exquisite taste, the home was spectacular. Draco's own Edwardian mansion was larger and more richly furnished, but the dungeons had been used one too many times, and the stale stench of dark magic hung thick in the air throughout most of the house. The grounds were the only part of the property that brought him any comfort, and more than once he'd had to resist the urge to burn the place to the ground and start anew. But Draco realised that do so would be an historical travesty. The manor contained more artefacts of every sort than some museums he'd been to. Someday he would move out of the manor, but for the time being the oppressiveness was a welcome penance for his sins of the past. Eliza was no help in that regard considering she thought the manor's aura was mysterious and enigmatic, fascinating. Draco was finding more and more reasons to wish her away from the place altogether.

"Welcome, Draco, Eliza! It's so lovely to see you both, and you both look divine!" Pansy gushed as she took their cloaks and hung them up by the floo. Ron shook Draco's hand and kissed Eliza's in the proper greeting of a gentleman. "Harry and Hermione haven't arrived yet so let us wait in the upstairs parlour--,"

Pansy was cut off by the sound of the doorbell, and she grinned at them before retracing her steps. "Never mind, here they are."

Draco fidgeted uncomfortably as he politely waited with Ron and Eliza for Pansy to open the door. Hermione had been on his mind more and more lately, and he was feeling a strange sort of nervous anticipation about seeing her again. It was a foreign feeling that was not unwelcome, and for the life of him he could not imagine why she would make him feel anything at all, let alone nervous. He glanced at Eliza quickly to see an excited grin on her face. She had been talking non-stop about finally being able to spend a whole evening in the sole company of the famous Gryffindor trio. For her, this was just an exciting day with celebrities, but for Draco, it would be facing demons, forgetting hurts, and moving past memories that destroyed souls and took lives.

Eliza turned her radiant smile to Draco. She was dressed in a blood red Muggle gown that made her pale skin even whiter. Her lips were painted red as well, and her blue eyes were heavily lidded under smoky eye shadow and mascara. Her dress hugged every inch of her lithe nineteen year old body, and Draco felt a shudder of repulsion. He rudely did not compliment her on her attire when he picked her up earlier for the evening because he didn't want to be honest, and tell her she looked like a vampire prostitute. He was forcefully reminded of how much effort she put into appearing older than she was, and it was painfully obvious that this time around she completely missed the mark. Four years age difference felt like a generation to Draco all of a sudden. He knew what she was doing; he had been growing more and more distant as the spring wore on, and she was trying to use seduction to lure him back in. Realistically, he was waiting for her term to be over so that she would leave, and he could decide if he really wanted to be with her. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say, and if it didn't, he knew what to do.

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by Ron's booming laughter. Harry must have said something upon entry that was terribly funny but Draco did not hear a word. He was transfixed with Hermione, who had just handed her cloak over to an excited and laughing Pansy. Hermione's hair hung in long, rich curls down her back. She was dressed in Draco's favourite colour and she was wearing just enough eye makeup to bring out the green in her otherwise brown eyes. Even from his distance of ten feet or so, Draco could see the change in her eyes. Draco was most impressed by the robes she wore though, out of all the women she was the only one who chose to dress in purely wizarding attire and they hugged her body just enough to leave room for the imagination. Draco appreciated traditional wizarding clothes over any other kind and found it ironic that the only pureblood women in the room were dressed like Muggles. Hermione finally looked up long enough to look into Draco's eyes and his breath caught audibly in his throat. Her smile faltered when she saw him, and he could not read the expression in her eyes, but she quickly redeemed herself and reached out to shake Eliza's hand.

"It is so good to finally see you again," Eliza gushed. "Hopefully this evening we will finally be able to talk."

Draco thought that was a tactless thing to say and he imagined he saw a flash of annoyance pass over Hermione's face. It was gone though before she returned the sentiment and then turned to greet Draco, her hand extended.

Draco reached for her hand, which was warm and small in his own, and brought it to his lips. He placed a light kiss on her knuckles whilst never looking away from her eyes, and the contact of his mouth on her skin sent a shiver down his spine, and he saw goose pimples rise on her arm.

"You look very well," Draco breathed quietly.

Hermione blushed ever so slightly before taking her hand away. She'd felt something when he touched her that she'd never felt before, it warmed her and cooled her at the same time, and she was so confused that she could not even say the word 'hello.' The moment was over as quickly as it began, and the rest of the group was shuffling to the parlour for pre-dinner drinks before Hermione even realised it. Hermione fell in step with Harry, as was her habit, and followed their hosts allowing the cheerful banter of friends to distract her.

Ron poured them all a drink before settling into a comfortable looking chair by the fire. Hermione imagined him wearing a smoking jacket and puffing on an obnoxiously large cigar and said so aloud without realising it.

"He does exactly that sometimes, Hermione," Pansy laughed as she went to sit on the arm of Ron's chair. Ron wrapped a protective arm around her waist.

"I do, it makes me feel rich," then he looked at Pansy adoringly, "and then I remember that I am rich."

Eliza voiced the sentiments that Hermione was feeling. "Ohh, that is so adorable. Aren't they adorable Draco?"

Draco shrugged noncommittally and sat down on the loveseat next to Ron's chair, leaving the couch free for Harry and Hermione. Draco could not help but notice that the pair did not sit very close. He was under the impression they were together somehow. He quickly pushed the information to the back of his mind and responded to Eliza, "Well, it is a far cry from the robes the poor sod was forced to wear to our ball in fourth year."

"Ouch, Malfoy, that was below the belt," Ron said congenially, "but you are correct. Those robes were ghastly."

"I think I have a picture, or two somewhere, Eliza. Remind me and I will show you some time," Harry said eyeing Eliza appreciatively. Draco filed that information as well; maybe Potter liked the slutty look. Or perhaps his maturity was more on a level with Eliza's. Draco frowned at Harry nonetheless for his lack of tact. He saw that Hermione noticed the way Harry was looking at his date too, but she just smiled, and elbowed him discreetly.

"Sorry," Harry whispered quietly to Hermione as Ron and Eliza continued to talk about the Yule Ball and the Triwizard Tournament.

Hermione glanced quickly at Draco, "I'm not offended, but Draco might be. I'm glad to see you are attracted to someone besides me, but don't be an idiot," she hissed in his ear.

"—I was so upset I had to wear those robes, but nobody really said anything. It was Hermione that got everyone's attention that night," Ron was saying causing Hermione to stop chastising Harry and look up.

"Really?" Eliza said, her interested piqued, "what happened?"

"Nothing happened, Eliza. I was wearing the same sort of thing everyone else was that night. I think he is referring to my date, Viktor Krum."

"You went with Viktor Krum?" Eliza practically shrieked. "What was he like? He's so famous."

"I was not talking about Krum, but I suppose that had something to do with it as well," Ron said, his old grudge against the Quidditch player still slightly evident in his tone.

"Hermione looked amazing that night. You see, Eliza, Hermione used to run around with this wild mane of hair, and you would never see her outside of her school robes, but that night she was stunning in periwinkle blue," Pansy said not unkindly, "she was rather pretty that night, wasn't she Harry?"

Before Harry could open his mouth to say anything, Draco responded to everyone's surprise.

"She was the most beautiful girl in the room," Draco said revelling in the blush that rose in Hermione's cheeks. Pansy's gasp redirected his attention to the other two women in the room. Pansy was forcing back a smile and Eliza was staring at him rather stonily. _I deserve that, I'm no better than Harry ogling my date,_ Draco thought before he continued. "Next to you, Pansy, of course. You were _my_ date, after all."

That got a laugh out of most of the people in the room even though it was shaky. Pansy was pleased when the caterer they'd hired for the evening interrupted to announce dinner was ready. The evening was getting off to a not entirely unpleasant, but definitely awkward, beginning.

Once everyone was seated and sipping on a lovely tomato bisque, the conversation turned to more mundane topics such as work and how everyone's families were fairing. Eliza mentioned that her final exams were coming up and that she was beginning to get nervous about them, which resulted in Harry offering up Hermione to provide study schedule advice.

"I'm sure she will do fine without me, Harry," Hermione admonished lightly, "not everyone has your lack of discipline when it comes to schoolwork."

"Well, I would appreciate some help, though. Maybe you remember enough of Hermione's methods to help me yourself, Harry," Eliza said cutting Draco a vengeful smirk which he happily ignored, "after all, she is a busy woman."

Harry wasn't so clueless he did not see what was going on. He mumbled 'we'll see' under his breath and carefully avoided Draco's eyes. If he'd paid any attention though, he would have noticed that Draco did not seem at all perturbed by Harry or Eliza's inappropriate behaviour. He was too busy looking for some sort of jealousy on Hermione's part, and when it was clear that none was forthcoming, he figured that the rumours were untrue, and they must not be together after all.

"How is work, Draco?" Hermione asked him politely, attempting to return the conversation back to their jobs and nothing else.

Draco set down the wine glass he was about to sip out of, and Hermione could not help but notice the little light that went on his eyes. He clearly adored his work as much she adored hers. "It is going well; I have almost finished my preparations for recovering the Egyptian Ankh I have been searching for. If all goes well, I will be able to go straight to King Tut's tomb, take a few days to work out the wards, get in find the Ankh, and get out."

"Will it be dangerous? I'm afraid I am unaware of the history behind the Ankh that you are speaking of," Hermione replied.

"It is a fascinating story, but perhaps only to me, and quite a long one, I don't wish to bore everyone with it now," Draco said the light dimming in his eyes a little.

Eliza wore an expression that clearly stated she'd heard the story before and hoped that Hermione would not press for details. Harry and Ron wore a similar expression but only because they weren't interested in the details. Pansy was observing the group as was her speciality, and if she didn't know better, she would guess that Draco and Hermione would make a much better match than Draco and Eliza. Her scheming mind was thinking of ways to throw Harry and Eliza together frequently during the course of the evening.

"Perhaps another time," Hermione said hopefully. She really was interested, and for some unexplainable reason she felt pulled towards Draco, as if the further he moved away from her the more lost she would be. It was an unfamiliar but not a wholly undesirable feeling, she just wondered if Draco felt it too.

Once the main courses were served, a marinated quail breast and leg, confit foie gras, and green bean salad, the conversation ceased slightly as everyone enjoyed their meal.

"This really is delicious, Pansy," Harry commented between mouthfuls.

"I wish I could take credit, but the whole thing is catered. It is the one vice that Ron has yet to forgive me for, my lack of culinary skills. But I am improving, aren't I?" she asked her fiancée.

"You are, my dear, which leads me to the reason why we invited you here tonight. We have finally settled on a date for the wedding, it will be on the first of June, and I wanted to ask you, Harry to be my best man," Ron said.

"Of course, mate. Congratulations on finally setting a date. We were beginning to believe you two had settled into domestic bliss so well, you forgot the small matter of getting married," Harry quipped.

"And, I was hoping that you would be willing to be a bridesmaid for me, Hermione. Tracey Davis is going to be my Maid of Honour; she was happy to get my letter and said that she will be returning from South America especially for my wedding. Did you know she has been doing a lot of work healing for the Foreign Magical Relief Mission? I do miss her," Pansy was clearly pleased with the work her best friend was doing.

Hermione smiled graciously, surprised that she'd been offered a bridesmaid position. "I did hear, and I am interested in learning about her experiences. I would be honoured to be in your bridal party, Pansy."

"Will you be here on the day, Eliza?" Pansy asked, "I don't want to be frightfully rude and not extend an invitation to you, especially considering that Draco has already agreed a few days ago to be a groomsman." Pansy said.

"I really don't know if I will be here," Eliza replied honestly.

"Well, you are invited either way," Ron replied raising his glass. "I would like to propose a toast to my fiancée, and my friends, may our futures be bright."

"Here, here," everyone chorused before drinking.

After dinner, the group retired to the parlour once again for more drinks and conversation. Hermione had been unnaturally quiet for most of the evening and found that being at an event where she was not required to talk was quite pleasant. It was not long however, before the palaver turned to the latest news on any remaining Death Eaters that still avoided capture, and subtle references to Hermione's kidnapping and Draco's rescue mission.

Suddenly the air in the room became stifling hot and heavy. Hermione felt her chest constricting, and was afraid she was going to have a full blown panic attack. She stood as calmly as she could and excused herself to the bathroom, but instead of going to the bathroom she went outside on a balcony that was through the ballroom, and extended over the rear of the house. Memories of the kidnapping were flashing through her mind, and she fought to suppress them to no avail.

Back in the parlour, Harry started to worry about Hermione after almost ten minutes had gone by and she still hadn't returned. He had a terrible sense of deja vu and quickly stood up to go look for her. Draco sensed what he was feeling, and would be lying if he said he was not concerned. He felt that Hermione was safe, but he sensed an inner turmoil that was hurting her terribly. He followed Harry out of the room and did not repress his sigh of relief when he saw Hermione through the open ballroom and balcony doors at the end of the hallway. Harry made a move to go after her, but Draco put a hand on his arm.

"Let me," he said.

Harry looked at him uncertainly for a moment, but then shrugged and returned to the parlour to reassure everyone that all was well.

Draco went through the ballroom doors, and quietly closed them behind him. He was able to slip out onto the balcony quietly before she noticed him behind her. She started slightly, turning her head just enough to look at him, and then she quickly looked away. Hermione wanted him there, but she did not know what to say to him. He was handsome in the moonlight, with his mysterious grey eyes, and his alabaster skin stretched over perfectly crafted muscle. He was a combination of genetics and breeding that should make any Norse god burn with envy at his beauty.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked quietly taking out a cigarette.

"No," Hermione replied without turning around, "did Harry send you?"

"He was going to come, but I stopped him," Draco replied.

Hermione smelled the smoke and turned to face him. "Why?"

"So I could have a cigarette," he lied; he really just wanted to talk to her. "It is a filthy habit. Luckily Eliza never complains because wizards don't get sick from these kinds of things."

"I agree, it is a filthy habit," Hermione remarked, not really sure what he wanted her to say. The remark about Eliza settled uneasily in her stomach.

Draco looked at Hermione thoughtfully. Her hair had fallen forward across her right eye, and she was hugging herself as if she were cold.

"I meant what I said earlier, about how beautiful you looked at the Yule Ball. But it pales in comparison to you tonight," he took a few steps toward her and leaned on the railing next to her.

Hermione didn't respond, instead she watched the smoke from his fag curl slowly. Then she shifted her eyes and watched as his elegant lips wrapped around the butt as he pulled deeply. She could see the relevance of the sex appeal in cigarette advertisements.

Draco felt her eyes on his cigarette. "I should have asked; do you wish me to quit?"

"Quit?" Hermione asked, confused. "Yes," she found herself saying before she could stop herself, "forever."

Draco was stunned at the blunt honesty of her answer. He could not help but wonder why she cared. Nevertheless he stubbed out the cigarette and vanished it along with the rest of the pack in his pocket.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked dumbly.

Draco looked at her intensely, "Because you wanted me too. Are you really all right, Hermione? I have to know, have you been able to tell Harry, or anyone, about what happened to you? You can't keep it all bottled up inside."

"Why do you care?" It was not a defensive question, she really wanted to know.

"I don't know. You walked in the house tonight, and I lost all the reasons why I never spent any time with you before."

Draco locked eyes with Hermione and asked her a million silent questions. She could sense that her eyes reflected the same myriad of questions.

"Are you dating Harry?" That was one she could answer.

"No."

Draco's relief was visible. "Will you go out with me?"

Draco seemed just as stunned at what he just said as Hermione was. He couldn't explain it though, she was all he wanted and he was one to trust his instincts. Her hair comb saved his life, that was enough to get her in his mind, but only one evening in her presence was enough to embed her in his soul. He had to be with her.

"No."

Draco felt his heart breaking for some unfathomable reason. "Why not?"

"Because you are with Eliza," Hermione replied.

"Then I will end it with her tonight. Right now, if that is what it takes," Draco said earnestly reaching up to push the hair hanging over her eye out of her face. "I want to know you, Hermione."

His touch was like electricity and she shuddered. "You already know the worst about me."

"I do not. I know the worst thing that might have happened to you, but that is all," Draco said still looking her directly in the eyes.

"You would still want me? Even though I—"

Draco cut her off with a finger over her lips. "Yes. That does not matter to me. Will you go out with me? We can talk about the Ankh."

"I don't know what to say. This is so sudden; you go from hating me, to saving me, to wanting to date me?"

"You don't follow your gut very often do you?"

Hermione looked away. "Not before tonight."

"Is that a yes?"

"I won't date someone who is in a relationship," Hermione replied not really believing that she was giving in. This could be some horrible trick and she would be walking right into it. But he knew what happened to her, and he was still asking her. Draco Malfoy of all people. Her poor self-esteem was attempting her to reason with herself, but her face was still warm where he'd touched it, and she wanted more of that. She wanted more electricity and she wanted to feel the gentle caress of a man, not force and pain.

"I said I would end it," he replied more earnestly, "please."

"I'm frightened, Draco," she said. His name was sweet on her tongue. "There are some things about you don't know, and won't like."

"Hermione," he breathed, "you're perfect. You are beautiful, a war hero, intelligent, career focussed, and a million other things I don't have to time to say right now, but if you give me a chance I will try to tell them all to you."

The one thing that had been weighing heavily on her heart, and wounding her more than anything finally spilled out of her mouth, "I'm not a virgin."

Draco looked at her in confusion, he knew that of course, but did not know how to respond. "Neither am I," was all he said.

"No Draco, you don't understand. I was a virgin before I got kidnapped. I am scared to death of having a man touch me because I don't know what it feels like when it is not forced. You don't want to be with me because I might not ever let you touch me, or see me, my scars." Hermione was fighting back tears. Of all the people she could be telling this too, it had to be him.

Draco was undone with fury for the people who hurt her and for himself for not getting to her sooner. She took a step back from him. Draco could be a frightening person when he chose to be.

"I wish I could bring those bastards back to life just so I could kill them again," he growled angrily.

"That is exactly why I didn't tell Harry anything. I don't want him to feel that kind of vengeance is necessary. They are gone, I need to move on, and I can't if all the people I care about are only thinking about taking revenge on people who are no longer here to suffer retribution," she choked out through the tears that were finally falling.

Draco stepped forward and pulled Hermione into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and immediately recognised the slightly fruity scent of Sleakeasy's. He couldn't help but wonder what the natural scent of her hair was, but pushed the thought aside. Hermione didn't put her arms around him just yet but she smelt him too, he smelled like parchment and sandalwood. Her body was tense and he willed her to relax.

"I would never hurt you, Hermione. I am surprised to hear that you were a virgin, because honestly, you are very attractive, but that does not make me want you any less," Draco whispered into her hair. "Please believe me."

Slowly, Hermione wrapped her arms around him. He was long and lean, and Hermione wanted to touch more of him. For her entire life she thought she men just didn't want her, but maybe she was rejecting them all before they had a chance, just so she could be free for when the right one came along.

"I believe you."

"Then go out with me. Just one date. I need to know if this pull I'm feeling towards you is something special. Can't you feel it too? I am sick of denying myself, Hermione. You must be sick of it, too. You are so intrepid all the time. I don't need to see you every day to know that. Let me take care of you. Hell, if not me, at least tell Harry the truth so he can help you."

Hermione closed her eyes, willing the tears to stop falling. She was giving in; all of her senses recognised nothing but the man holding her. She feared that if she moved away from him she would lose her ability to use all of them. "You have to end it with Eliza first."

Draco pulled Hermione away so he could look in her eyes. "Done. I think Harry wants her anyway."

Hermione could not help but smile at how true that probably was, but she just hoped he took her dating Draco with good grace.

"You're smile is so beautiful. I want to see more of it," Draco said smiling himself, "Will you go out with me tomorrow?"

"I usually have lunch with my parents on Sundays. But I'm free after," Hermione said eager for the next day already. "We should get back. Everyone will wonder."

"I don't care."

Hermione didn't really either but they left for the parlour anyway. Draco wanted to hold her hand but he refrained, respecting her wishes that they don't do anything until he was single. He shook his head at the direction the night had turned. He arrived with his girlfriend, no real intentions to end it with her, but now eager to be rid of her as quickly as possible. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but his research had taught him to believe in fate and trails, and fate had given him a hair comb that led to Hermione, which led him to feeling a passion he'd never known he was capable of.

Later that evening Harry admitted an attraction to Eliza and was only a little upset when she told him she would be dating Draco.

"I still love you, Hermione, and I am a little jealous, but I am happy for you. You look happy for the first time since you came back."

"I am happy, Harry. I am scared to death of what is going to happen, but for once I am going to jump in head first. But Harry, there is something that Draco and I talked of shortly earlier this evening that I want to tell you about. I am too tired tonight, but will you meet me here for breakfast? It is going to be difficult for me to say, but Draco is right. I should have told you before."

"Hermione, you are starting to worry me." Harry took both of her hands.

"It can wait until tomorrow, and there is nothing to be worried about. It is over, I just need to get it off my chest." Hermione led him to the Floo. "Now go, I am tired."

Harry gave her a quick hug before stepping into the fireplace. "I love you, you're still my best friend," he said before the flames whooshed him away.

Just before Hermione fell asleep she heard a tapping on her bedroom window. Surprised, she opened it to see Draco's eagle owl bearing a message. Hermione untied the scroll and fed the owl a treat. He promptly flew away which meant that Draco would not be waiting for a reply. Hermione unrolled the scroll with shaking fingers. Was he cancelling already? Her heart beat wildly beneath her breastbone as she read. Relief washed over her so much she actually collapsed back on the bed.

_My dearest Hermione,_

_As per your wish, and mine, I have successfully ended it with Eliza. There was much anger and yelling on her part, but I assure you it is over without the smallest hint of regret._

_I now belong only to you and I have never felt so free in my life._

_I will be at your flat to pick you up promptly at three. Dress comfortably._

_Thinking of you,_

_Draco Malfoy_

*********************************************************************************

**A/N: Not beta'd just so you know. Reviews are appreciated. Some people get tons of them and no offence to anyone out there, but how do they do it? Even some of the crappy stories I've read have hundreds of reviews. Is it because I don't hold my chapters ransom? I hope that's it because I would never do such a thing.**

**Anyway, someone mentioned to me that people would be more likely to read my stories if I titled my chapters. Is that really true? I never really considered it before but now I am dying to know it is true.**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I am not JKR, I get no money from this, and the fact that this is an unrealistic story of love between Hermione and Draco clearly makes it not JKR's brainchild.

Chapter 9

When Hermione woke up that morning the two decisions she'd made the night before gave her an instant headache, but she was determined to plug on. After a good night's rest, Hermione was able to see what a fool's decision it was to agree to see Draco so readily. It was simply something she would never, ever, do. But done it she had, and it had felt more right than any decision she had ever made in her life. She was terrified, that much was true, but she was still very interested in seeing where their relationship could go. She felt some indescribable pull towards Draco and was not sure if she even wanted to fight it.

However, telling Harry the truth about what happened to her filled her with trepidation. She could not shake the feeling that he would see her as flawed somehow after she told him. Or, if he did not see her as flawed, he would be angry, and she did not want to deal with that either; but she must. This was why Hermione was picking at her breakfast while Harry stared at her.

"Hermione, just tell me what you need to tell me. You had me up all night with worry, and now you are looking as if you are about to be led to the gallows. I assure you, whatever you have to say cannot be that bad," Harry said. He was tired; and unlike Hermione, a night's contemplation over her decision about Draco just made him angry. He did still care for Hermione, a part of him still wanted to be with her, and most of him was convinced Draco would just hurt her. Draco spared no second thoughts when he cast Eliza aside at the dinner party, and she was a lovely girl. Harry couldn't imagine Hermione faring any better.

Hermione dropped her toast back on her plate and brushed off her hands. "Okay, fine. You're right; I need to get this out, but don't interrupt me, please."

"When you found me, you were led to believe that the injuries I had on that day were the worst of them. If Dolohov and Goyle had survived I would have testified against them and the truth would have been out then, but I was relieved they were killed because it meant that I could keep my secret—"

Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hermione shook her head and held up a hand to stop him.

"I didn't want anyone to know about this because I didn't know how they would feel about me afterwards, and I didn't want to answer any more questions about my personal life than necessary. I thought in the beginning that I was strong enough to deal with it on my own, but I guess I am really not." Hermione closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. When she opened her eyes again it was to see Harry frowning at her to continue. "Anyway, not only did they use the Cruciatus Curse and hit me, but they raped me."

Hermione said the last few words quickly and quietly. Harry leaned forward as if to hear better.

"What?"

"They raped me!" Hermione said loudly.

"Oh, I heard you the first time. I can't believe you would keep something like this from me! Don't you trust me at all?" Harry shouted as he stood up and started pacing around Hermione's little kitchen.

Hermione stared at him in shock. She was expecting him to react with anger, but towards her captors, not her.

"Of course I trust you, Harry," Hermione said uncertainly.

Harry rounded on her, his jaw clenched so tightly she was surprised she couldn't hear it cracking. "Oh, really? You trust me? That's why you kept this horrible thing bottled up inside for so long? That's why you let me help you? Is this why you don't want to be with me? Are you afraid that I'll find you repulsive because you're not a virgin anymore?"

"Yes, Harry. That is exactly what I thought. I thought you wouldn't want me. I thought I would not want another man to touch me. I was scared about people would think. And I didn't want you feeling like you needed to take revenge on the people who did it." Hermione had stood up and was pacing on the other side of the kitchen.

Harry stopped wearing a path on the tiles and turned towards her, his green eyes flashing. "They are dead already, Hermione, you should have been able to tell me."

He seemed to be calming down, but Hermione could feel the tension coming off of him in waves.

"I should have told you. I didn't tell anyone."

"What about Malfoy?"

"Tell me the truth, Harry. If you had known, and I had agreed to give a relationship with you a chance, would you have been afraid to touch me? Would you be worried about how I would react or if you were hurting me?" Hermione approached Harry slowly until she was only a few feet away from him. She was pleading with her eyes for him to be honest.

Harry did not say anything for a full minute. He dragged his hand down his face and let out a long breath before he finally spoke again. "You didn't answer my question. What about Malfoy?"

"Answer mine first," Hermione said, refusing to be swayed.

"I would have probably done some or all of the things you described," Harry said quietly. "What about Malfoy?"

"He already knows," Hermione said hoping sincerely that Harry would not fly off the handle again. "He was there, remember?"

Harry started pacing and sputtering again. "You mean, he saw?" he asked incredulously.

"No! Dolohov and Goyle were bragging about it and they expected him to do it as well. When they finally let us alone, Draco let me use his wand to heal some of the injuries," Hermione said.

"So, you couldn't even tell me, your best friend, but you not only talked to him about it right after it happened, but you want to date him too?" Harry asked. "I'm really confused, Hermione."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She simply turned away from him and sat back down. Part of her was relieved that she'd finally told Harry her secrets, but she was truly afraid that her reticence had caused a rift between them.

"Hermione, what's the deal with Malfoy? How could you trust him over me?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "I didn't discuss what happened with Draco. He knew, he offered his wand to heal myself, I accepted. He assured me it would not happen again, and he kept that promise. Why all of this animosity towards Draco all of a sudden, Harry? I was under the impression you were forming a friendship of sorts."

"Hermione..." Harry started before trailing off.

Hermione crossed her arms and waited for him to finish his response. When it was clear none was forthcoming, Hermione broke the silence.

"Harry, I can't explain what it is with Draco. I didn't have to tell him much of anything, and I guess the fact that he already knew made it easier for me. I did tell him I was a virgin beforehand, but he really didn't seem to care. I didn't want you to see me as weak, or not being able to handle what happened. It has happened to so many people before me; I could not justify wallowing in any type of misery, but it did affect me, and I'm glad I talked to Draco about it last night, and I am glad I told you. I feel a million times better already, even if you are angry at me for not bringing it up before." Hermione had stood and approached Harry again. She reached out and touched his chin forcing him to look at her. "I don't know what else to say, other than if you would keep this to yourself, I would appreciate it."

"I will keep it to myself, you have my word," Harry said as he gathered his coat and gloves. "But I am disappointed that you had no faith in me and kept this to yourself. I don't even know how to comfort you now; nothing I can think of to say or do feels appropriate. I'll see you later, good luck with Malfoy."

Hermione grasped Harry's arm before he could walk away from her. "Harry, you're my best friend, you can't possibly walk out on me now."

"The best friend you didn't trust enough to confide in, you mean," Harry spat back bitterly. "What do you want, Hermione? Do you want to me hold you, and comfort you, and tell you I'm sorry all this happened? Because you seem beyond that. You didn't tell me so that I could be there for you, you told me because you didn't like keeping this secret from me. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that's not true?"

Of course, Hermione could not, and Harry knew that. "You rejected me by not telling me in the first place, you rejected me again when I wanted to pursue a relationship with you, as disastrous as that might have been, and that really hurts, Hermione. I put my heart out there, and you hid yours from me. I will talk to you again soon."

Hermione watched incredulously as Harry left. It was not until the last crackle of flame disappeared from the Floo did Hermione allow the tears to fall. Harry was absolutely right about one thing: too much time had passed for him to offer the kind of comfort she might have been seeking had she gone to him right away. Surprisingly, she was not upset for her sake. Harry knew her well enough that she did not want platitudes from him. Hermione did not need someone to tell her everything was going to be all right because she already knew that. But she did hurt Harry, however inadvertently, and she was going to have to live with that. She also suspected he was jealous of Malfoy, and there was nothing she could do about that but give him time to get over it. Hermione threw her face down in the pillows of her couch and pounded the fluffy things in frustration. Crookshanks gave a mew of discontent and waddled into Hermione's bedroom.

"Why can't my life just be normal?" Hermione asked her empty apartment.

* * *

Draco hummed happily to himself as he reclined behind his desk revising his notes on the Ankh. He was being completely truthful when he'd told Hermione that he wanted to tell her the story behind it on their first date. If any person on earth would appreciate that for what it was, it had to be the studious Granger. On his first date with Eliza they had gotten drunk and naked before any real conversation could take place. That was unsurprising considering he had allowed himself to be dragged to one of her friends' parties at her University for the date. Draco felt slightly guilty for throwing her over so efficiently the previous evening, but the guilt was quickly washed away with relief. He knew that if he hadn't allowed his impulses with Hermione to take over, he would probably continue to court and eventually marry Eliza because it was the proper thing to do, and she was a good person. His profound relief only exacerbated how cumbersome their relationship would have been had he stuck with it.

Draco shuffled his carefully organised notes into a tidy pile and slipped them in a slim briefcase. He added a small stack of drawings of King Tut's Ankh before clasping it shut and laying it aside. Picking up a newspaper clipping that was worn with handling, Draco stared at the smiling face of Hermione Granger. It was the picture taken of her right before she disappeared at the benefit and Draco pondered how long it would be before her eyes lit up like that again. He could not in all honesty say he was not moved by her beauty that evening, but he was distracted by Eliza and thoroughly convinced she was with Potter. It was easy to cast thoughts of her aside that evening and the way he felt that he couldn't possibly live without her now mystified him. The feeling was unexpectedly pleasant.

The only concern Draco had now was whether Hermione was going to be agreeable to the fact that he planned to tarry off and search for the elusive Ankh immediately. Eliza was not unsupportive of him leaving to find it, but she always maintained the valid argument that she would be leaving to finish school in America and therefore he could search for it after she left. Pursuing a relationship with Hermione at the same time he broke off another whilst simultaneously looking for his artefact was probably not rational from an outside view, but it was what he needed to do. The reasoning was just as elusive to him as ever, but he was sure in his decision. If anything, the trip would be for his own peace of mind. He had spent years putting together the little bits of history that tied the Ankh directly to King Tut. His education in magical history did not reach further than the founding of Hogwarts, and while he knew that there was clearly magic before that, finding tangible proof of it from over three thousand years ago would be a boon for his collection, and his ego. It was eccentric perhaps, but it was his obsession.

Checking the contents of his case one last time, Draco gathered his jacket and some flowers and left his office to go pick up Hermione. He had told her to be ready at three in the afternoon, which meant they would have tea and talk first thing. If she was receptive to the idea he planned to finish the evening by showing her his personal store of items he had collected over the years. He had an amazing collection of rare books with many of them signed; he thought it might impress her. Perhaps he might even allow her to touch some of them, something no one had done before, not even his employees. Draco was adamant about that and trusted no one but himself with his most precious pieces, and those included books.

The nerves did not register in Draco's gut until he was crunching his way through the half melted snow leading up to Hermione's stoop. All of a sudden he was afraid that despite her career she might not be as interested in his somewhat academic pursuits. As a student she probably would have been thrilled to learn everything Draco wanted to share with her now, but what if she was sick of research like Eliza was because of her job and didn't want to discuss it? _No, _Draco said sharply to himself, _she was interested, and we will talk about other things besides my work and hers. She just needs to know so she understands why I want to leave now to find it._

Resolved, Draco reached up ring the bell just as Hermione threw open the door and stepped back to let him in, smiling shyly. She was dressed in blue robes that were cut to fit around her feminine curves prettily and looked like they would be smooth to the touch. Draco could not help but notice that her eyes were slightly red-rimmed as if she had spent a good portion of her day crying. He felt an odd flopping sensation in his stomach that he dimly registered as genuine concern for how she was feeling.

"Are you alright?" he blurted before either of them could even properly say hello.

Hermione looked momentarily stunned before she self-consciously touched the corner of her eye. "I am fine, really."

Draco continued on like an idiot. "Are you sure? You look like you have been crying."

This time Draco squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head skyward for a moment, clearly embarrassed. Hermione actually gave a small laugh.

"Forgive me Hermione, I am being a complete classless prat," Draco stated as he thrust the mixed bouquet towards her. "Hello, it is wonderful to see you, these are for you."

"Hello to you too," Hermione replied cheerfully playing along, her heart thumping loudly. Having him there in her living room acting like a nervous teenager was making her positively giddy and her earlier bad mood dissipated. Eying the case in his other hand, Hermione hoped it contained the notes about the artefact he was looking for. "These are beautiful, let me just go put them in a vase."

Hermione smiled at him once more before she retrieved a vase from the kitchen, filled it with a little water, and placed a stasis charm on the flowers so that they would continue to live. The charm made the water unnecessary, but she liked them to look more natural. Draco smiled when she arranged the flowers on the centre of her mantelpiece. When she was finished she turned to Draco, who was rocking back and forth from the heels to the balls of his feet. Hermione thought the movement was slightly endearing. His nervousness went a long way in easing her own.

"In answer to your earlier question, I am truly all right now, but I was upset because of an argument I had earlier with Harry," Hermione volunteered.

Draco frowned at her words. "Potter?"

"Yes, I took your advice and told him about what happened to me, and well, let's just say he was quite upset that I was not as forthcoming with the information as I should have been when it actually happened."

Draco's frown deepened as he took a step towards her and reached for her hand. "Hermione, it is entirely up to you to decide whom you tell and when, he has no right to be angry."

Hermione appeared to mull over his words for a moment before responding. "Actually, I think Harry's reaction was quite justified in this case. He knew I was just telling him to get it off of my chest and not because I wanted his help through it, and that hurt him. Combine that with my breaking up with him and immediately starting – uh, starting something with you and he was pushed just a little too far."

Draco said nothing and was slightly disappointed when Hermione squeezed his hand but then let it go.

"I really do not want to talk about Harry right now though, if that is all right. You look nice, Draco. Are we going someplace Muggle? Should I change?" Hermione felt slightly overdressed compared to Draco, who was wearing dark blue jeans and a grey sweater underneath his black coat.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and mentally admonished himself for not complimenting her on how she looked already, but shook his head. "We can do Wizarding world. You look very nice and I would hate for you to change."

_Smooth Draco, once the king of cool and now you're the village idiot. _

"Great, shall we then?" Hermione wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and looked at Draco uncertainly. "Where to?"

"Tea, your choice."

Twenty minutes later Hermione and Draco were both tucked into a cosy booth in the corner of the pub, sandwiches and butterbeers already on the table. For a few minutes they both talked about mundane work details while they ate_. Is work busy right now? How are the children faring in the new ward? What is your busiest time of year, etc_. When they both were finished eating and sipping tea the conversation lulled and they both were careful to look around the room and at their drinks but not at each other. After the third time of looking into Draco's eyes and then quickly away again, Hermione laughed and broke the silence.

"I feel like this is the first date I have ever been on and I don't want the bloke to see how much I like him because I don't want to seem desperate," Hermione admitted blushing prettily.

Draco let out a huge breath. "Thank Merlin because I feel the same way. I have to admit that I have been dying to talk to you about the Ankh, but I have convinced myself you won't be that interested. Past experience has taught me that most people don't believe in it like I do."

"Well, I am not most people and history fascinates me. Why don't you try me?"

Draco took a long sip of his tea and settled back in his seat to tell his story. "I am going to give you the short version right now, and if you want more details I have my notes. I assume you know who King Tutankhamen was?"

Hermione nodded.

"So you know then that he became a king at age eight and was dead by nineteen. His tomb is near Luxor, Egypt and contains over five thousand artefacts. Many Muggle scientists and curious wizards have dug through what they believe to be every square inch of that tomb, and perhaps they have, since it was first discovered in 1922. I doubt that many wizards could have looked very deeply because if what I am looking for truly exists, then none have really looked, like I said before. Bill Weasley confirmed this when I asked him what he knew of the tomb's contents, and he told me that there were curses in there that he hasn't tried to break, and the place gives him an ominous feeling. I have visited it once without going in, and it does feel ominous." Draco stopped talking as Hermione opened her mouth to speak.

"Why didn't you go in?"

"I don't know. It was a pull, something told me stay out. In exactly the same way I feel compelled to be with you, I felt compelled to not go in."

Hermione blushed again when he said he felt compelled to be with her, but just nodded and motioned for him to continue.

"Anyway, the Muggles have determined that King Tut died at nineteen. Originally the theory was that he was murdered via head bludgeoning, but then later determined he had a broken leg that contained dislodged bone and caused an infection. Therefore, they believe he died from it because they found bits of splintered bone in the mummy. I have reason to believe that he was murdered and he did suffer from head wounds and broken bones, but that is not what killed him. His principle enemies were the Nubians, the Hittites, and the Libyans. The magical Nubians, now Sudanese, as you may already know, tend to live very secretly. In the last battle King Tut fought in, he fell from his chariot and was dragged away by a Nubian soldier I believe to be called Alara. There was also a Nubian king named Alara that I believe may be the same man."

Hermione gasped, "But they lived hundreds of years apart! Alara was much after King Tut!"

Draco grinned broadly at Hermione's historical knowledge. "That's correct, but you'll see where I'm going with this in a moment. Alara was the first Nubian king in the Kingdom of Kush, or what is known today as Sudan. Alara was a remarkable soldier that was noted for his talent with torture and healing, at least according to his journals that I have been able unearth and translate. He was very magically powerful, and according to legends that we don't read in school so was the Pharaoh King Tut. Tut was proving to be so magically gifted that Alara recognised his abilities as a threat to the Nubians, and was tasked to eliminate him because he alone might have powers to equal that of the young King Tut, but that is a long story for another time. But Alara had other plans: it was Alara's removal of King Tut's magical core that ultimately killed him."

Draco paused to take another drink of his stone -cold tea. Hermione was staring at him with her mouth slightly open. "So you believe that his magical core is stored in the Ankh? And that the Ankh is what is giving off the ominous feeling because it is dark magic?"

"Close. I do believe his core is stored in the Ankh. I think the Ankh was always a possession of Alara's. I call it King Tut's Ankh simply because it contains his magical core. The journals I have unearthed confirm this. They also confirm that Alara was a very capable dark wizard who would have been the envy of the Grindelwalds and Voldemorts of our time. Only Salazar Slytherin seemed to have some sort of notion of him though; it was Slytherin's journals that led me to hunt down Alara's. The details regarding how I got them are irrelevant right now; we can talk about that later. In any case, if Voldemort had figured out how to do this, we would be in serious trouble, but I believe that Alara used the magic in the Ankh combined with horcruxes to keep his body alive for a very long time. The strength of Tut's magical core combined with his own allowed him to live for several hundred years rather than the one to two hundred that wizards are capable of living." Draco stopped talking once more and looked at Hermione expectantly.

"How do you suppose he died then?" Draco's eyes were bright and sparkling with excitement and Hermione found herself enjoying every moment of his enthusiasm. His passion was bleeding over into her and she found herself completely immersed in his story.

"The second king of Nubia, Kashta, took the Ankh from him. Stored with Alara's perfectly preserved journals was a missive written by Kashta explaining what he'd done and why. He ended with a plea for whoever discovers this dark and terrible magic to destroy the journals that teach them how to capture a core and live off it, but not his details on how to break the curse if someone figures it out. The journals also describe in a series runes and riddles where the Ankh is hidden in King Tut's tomb. It's buried underneath it, quite deeply, put there by Kashta himself, and just far enough to be out of reach for a magical register unless you are looking for it specifically."

Hermione interrupted again. "So you have the journals that describe how to do this magic? That's terrible."

"No, Hermione. That information is buried with the Ankh, according to Kashta's writings. I have solved the riddles leading to where it is over a year ago, but fear of failure, finding it was all an elaborate myth, has kept me from seeking it. I believe it is there just as strongly as I fear that it isn't, and the ridicule I have received from friends and colleagues alike over my obsession would be too much to bear if I was wrong."

"But you don't believe you are." It was not a question.

"No."

"Are you going to follow Kashta's advice and destroy the documents when you find them?"

Draco's heart soared at Hermione's optimistic use of the word 'when' rather than 'if'.

"I am afraid that the documents have some sort of magic in them that would try to persuade the finder not to destroy them. I believe that is why Kashta did not. Fortunately Bill helped me with that fact as well. He said it is common in the curse-breaking industry to come across dark items that don't want to be destroyed. He led me to some excellent resources that discussed countering such curses and charms, surreptitiously of course, because that knowledge is only privy to Goblins and their human curse-breakers like Bill," Draco replied.

"But you are prepared to destroy them?"

"I have every intention of destroying them, no matter how much it pains me to do so. I don't want to use the magic in them, Hermione. I am not a dark wizard," Draco stated vehemently.

Hermione cringed slightly, "I know you're not. I just don't want them in the wrong hands, ever. I think they should be destroyed just as Kashta wants."

"As do I," Draco replied seriously.

"Then I think you need to find this thing."

Draco couldn't help himself. He stood up and leaned over the table to plant a warm kiss on Hermione's lips before backing up. "I knew you'd understand."

Hermione touched her lips, dazed, as Draco pulled out his notes and drawings and proceeded to list out in great detail his exact plans for retrieving the Ankh. They never made it to see Draco's book collection and by the end of the evening Hermione was just as excited for Draco's impending trip as he was, her only regret being that she could not go with him due to work. But she made him promise that if she could be of any magical assistance once he located the items he wanted he would contact her immediately.

Draco brought Hermione safely home after finalising his plans to leave in one week's time with Bill Weasley as company for his interest and experience, but also because Draco had developed a friendship with the man since Ron had suggested Draco seek him out for advice on the topic. Hermione was supremely relieved that Draco would not be going to the trip alone.

Just before Draco left, he leaned down to give Hermione a long and lingering kiss. His mouth was so sweet, soft, and warm Hermione found herself comparing it to crème brulee. The kiss made Hermione's knees go weak and the distinctively female part of her ached for more in a way that was new and thrilling to her. Draco's eyes were clouded and his face was slightly flushed when he pulled away, tracing a finger across her jaw and over her swollen lips.

"Hermione," he breathed before leaning in to kiss her again.

Hermione was near panting when he broke away the second time.

"I should go," Draco said reluctantly backing away. "Can I see you tomorrow when you get off work?"

"I don't think I could stand it if you didn't," Hermione replied honestly not caring how it sounded.

Draco stepped closer, kissed her quickly on the forehead, and then disappeared through the Floo with a smile that Hermione would not soon forget.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry for the long delay in updating! I was in a bit of writer's funk, first I had writer's block, and then I decided that nobody cared about story anyway, and then I decided that I care and I want to finish it. Then I got busy with work, and so on and so forth. So here is the next chapter. For those of you who had this story on alert, I am very sorry I took so long to update and I hope you can forgive me the delay. I really do appreciate my readers! I really appreciate reviews too!**

**The history of King Tut, Kashta, and Alara is made up. They were all very real people, but for my fic I am using them in name only. Some details of the brief history Draco described are based on facts, but most of it isn't. I plan to focus less on the back story of the Ankh now and more on Dramione and Draco's search for it, but if there some details you think are important that I should add to the story let me know! **

**Chapter is beta'd by the awesome blueskyshymoon-olgameisterfunk who is like one of the coolest people ever. Try saying her penname three times fast. **


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I am not JKR, she did not write this, but she did come up with the characters.

Liberation

Chapter 10

Sand. Billions of golden granules flowing through eternity, breaking in on themselves to form hills the only disturbance in the endless sea of sand. It was the first time in the three days that Hermione had spent assisting Draco and Bill Weasley to prepare for this excursion that she actually worried for their safety. If Hermione turned approximately ninety degrees northwest she could see the dusty outline of the Valley of the Kings. In her mind's eye she could picture the top of the tomb where King Tut lay somewhere near the northwest part of the valley. She could also see the rounded tops of the Colossi of Memnon, built by Ahmenotep III, but named by the Greeks. Hermione sent a silent plea to the great kings protecting the ancient mortuary to protect not only the dead within, but the living that might soon venture there. She was imagining lung clogging sandstorms and massive pits of quick sand ready to suck in Draco or Bill at any moment. Hermione bent over to pick up a handful of smooth sand and stared wide eyed as it flowed through her fingers. She could actually imagine it turning into quicksand overnight despite her rational mind telling her it wasn't true.

"This is definitely the place. Can you feel it?"

Hermione laboriously dragged her mind back to the present to look at Bill. He was standing about ten meters behind her holding his wand in front of his body like a divining rod. Even from her distance she could see the slight trembling of Bill's wand as it located what must be the magical entrance to the Tomb, and therefore the elusive Ankh. Draco wandered over to where Bill was standing, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. For several moments he remained in that position until quite suddenly he fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. A gust of wind tore through the air at that moment muffling the sounds Draco began to make, but by the trembling of his back Hermione guessed it was either great trembling laughter, or sobs. Hermione quickly went forward to him feeling the charge of magic changing in the air as she got closer, but stopped when Bill raised a hand and walked around Draco to meet her instead.

"Is he all right?" Hermione asked Bill, the trembling in her voice betraying her nerves. The last few days had provided ample opportunity to get to know Draco, albeit more as a friend and a zealous adventurer than a lover, but such a conspicuous display of emotion was beyond her knowledge of him. Her regard for him had grown by leaps and bounds as she learned how dedicated he was to his goals, but she had not imagined his fervor to run quite so deep.

Bill swiftly unpacked their tent and pitched it in the sand before saying anything. Draco slowly rose without opening his eyes. He turned in slow circles breathing deeply as he absently brushed grains of sand from his face. "He is fine. The magic is affecting him more powerfully than it would you or I because he has been looking for this longer. I've learned as a curse breaker that when you are seeking something, and you know you've finally found it, it is like coming home and the magic calls to you. I have been on jobs before where a certain one of would go in just because the magic tells us it should be him. This is definitely here for Draco."

Draco's circuitous route ended directly facing Hermione where he opened his eyes and grinned broadly. There was no trace of embarrassment over his emotional outburst as he strode forward and lifted her up into a bear hug.

"Finally! I have been waiting for this for so long, Hermione. It feels like every part of my life is finally coming together." Draco brought his face to Hermione's and gave her a lingering kiss. Bill blushed slightly and quietly slipped inside the tent unnoticed by the occupied lovers.

Hermione stumbled when Draco released her because her head was spinning from the kiss, Draco's previous emotional display, and the too warm Egyptian desert air. Another gust of wind blew through the desert valley swirling about the sand. With it Hermione could feel the unmistakable tingle of ancient and powerful magic sweeping through her body. She could feel it as it seeped through her skin and bones to rest in her magical core. Despite the warm air Hermione felt cold and shuddered involuntarily.

"You can feel it can't you?" Draco asked as he looked at his wand hand, the piece of wood still gripped tightly within it. "It has been a long time since anyone magical has been to this place. We are renewing old and forgotten magical energies just by being here."

Hermione stared at his wand too as if expecting it to glitter or something, but it did nothing, just sat in his hand, a deceptively harmless looking piece of wood. "I felt this charge the first time I entered Hogwarts Castle. No magical place I have ever been too has the same kind of concentrated magic the castle has."

"That is true," Bill said as he exited the tent and looked towards the sky. "Hogwarts is pretty overwhelming to wizard born and Muggle children alike the first time. We still have a couple of hours of daylight left if you want to start looking for the way in right now, Draco. It's going to be cold and windy tonight, though."

"You mean you aren't going to just, erm, dig?" Hermione asked stupidly. The whole time Draco talked about finding the Ankh he talked of it being buried. She assumed they had been on some sort of treasure hunt the whole day. Take ten paces west, five more east, spot the red X and start digging. Break the curses when you find the treasure chest, sort of thing.

Draco laughed, but not in a condescending way. "Hermione, look how far we are from the actual tomb. The Ankh is directly beneath his tomb, I believe that with all my energy, but the way to it is most definitely not through the tomb. Many people, including Egyptians and scholars, both Muggle and magical, believe the place is cursed. The Valley of the Kings is a highly magical place; you just didn't feel it so much when we were there early because there were so many people to absorb the dispersed energy. You feel it here because there is so much of it and we are the only ones to come to this very place in a very long time and actually know what is here."

Draco bent down and scooped a handful of sand and slowly let it pour out of his cupped palm. "Anyway, remember how I told you the entrance would be just far enough away from the tomb that there would be no natural magical register? This is it."

"So you're saying that you might have to dig from here to somewhere directly below King Tut's actual tomb?" Hermione asked incredulously. "That's just as dangerous as breaking a thousand unknown curses!"

"Perhaps, but it will be more likely a lot of digging, a lot of curses, and if we get lucky some sort of tunnel we can at least walk in. Based on my research, if we dig far enough we will find some sort of magical trap door leading to a chamber with the first series of challenges. That is as far as the journals I have of Kashta's went though." Draco led Hermione inside the tent and sat at the little table sitting in the small kitchen. He pulled out an ancient scroll from his bag and spelled it open. "See, it says that much right here at the end," he said pointing to some script at the bottom that Hermione couldn't have read if she wanted to because it was written in old Kush Hieroglyphics.

Bill settled down in one of the other chairs and began to peruse the documents. Having spent most of his career working in Egypt the writing was no problem for him.

"It still seems really dangerous, and I am afraid to just leave you two here. I know that I said I wanted you to do this, but now that I can see where this begins, and what it feels like just being in the area, I am really frightened for you both," Hermione said looking from Bill to Draco with worry. After a moment of silence, Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "But, this is something you want to do and I respect that. I understand what it is like to want something so badly you would give up everything for it. I just want you to know that I will not sleep until you get home, and if my work suffers it will be entirely your fault."

Draco frowned at Hermione's comments, but Bill just chuckled. "Duly noted. Would you like me to write a note to your boss? The challenges we face will be more to test our honour and less our abilities, Hermione. We might come across some dangerous curses, sure, but if our heart's our pure and we go through this without malice or a desire for personal gain we should be fine. But if you must know, I _did _have to lie a little to Fleur about what we were doing because I knew she would worry just like you are. I promised that if it gets too dangerous I would get out any way I could and go home to Fleur and Victoire."

"And will you?" Hermione entreated.

"Yes, he will," Draco answered for him. "We agreed that he would leave in that case. I, however, will keep going. I am fairly confident Bill will only be able to help me get so far."

Hermione already knew all this, but now that the moment had come she felt as if it was news to her. Now that her and Draco were together she felt as if she was about to lose him already, and she couldn't bear the thought with alacrity. She knew it was silly to feel so attached, but he truly was her savior in more ways than one and the selfish insecure part of her didn't feel like she could be anything without him. While Draco was searching for his Ankh she was going to have to search for the piece inside of her that allowed her to be alone and happy at the same time. The thought raised another question and it almost left her lips, but Draco silenced her with another warm kiss. This time Bill did not look away despite how private the moment had become. After the kiss, Draco leaned back into his seat and searched Hermione's eyes for some sign of acceptance of what could possibly be his fate.

"What do you want to ask, Hermione? I see a question in your eyes." Draco tenderly stroked Hermione's face from brow to chin with the back of his fingers.

Hermione's voice cracked as she asked the thing she needed to know. The question that had been lingering somewhere in the recesses of her mind since she learned about the Ankh. And not just before the first date where he spoke of it in great detail, but since he mentioned it when she had been kidnapped.

"Is it your destiny, then? To find this thing?" she asked quietly.

Draco looked puzzled. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

Finally Bill took this moment as his cue to leave once more. "I am going to go set up some wards," he mumbled to no one in particular.

Hermione spared Bill an apologetic glance before answering Draco. "So, what happens if you find your destiny, and this is really it?"

Draco's face cleared with understanding. "I mean that I believe I am destined to find this, not that it is my only destiny. Are you trying to see where you would fit in the equation of my life if this was my one true destiny?"

Hermione could not help but admit that is indeed what she was wondering and she looked at him shamefaced for thinking it. She must really look like a shrinking fish to him.

"You make it seem like your life would be complete if you had this one artifact. I don't see you going crazy over any of your other things, and you never mentioned wanting anything so badly besides it." Hermione fiddled with the hem of her shirt unable to meet Draco's eyes. He reached across the table and lifted her chin up with one strong finger.

"There is something else I want just as badly, Hermione. I don't think you need me to say it, but if you want me to I will." Hermione shook her head. No, she didn't want to hear it unless he wasn't going anywhere. Her gut told her that if she heard the words before he was safe and sound at home it would hurt twice as bad if something happened to him than if he didn't say them.

"However, when it comes to my career, this might be my destiny. The end, that is."

"Why?"

Draco swept his notes and Kashta's journal back into his bag with a sweep of his wand. "Because, if finding the Ankh is fraught with danger and excitement as I hope it to be, then anything else I look for would be anticlimactic. I have been studying this thing for years, Hermione. Years. Nothing else has captured my attention in the same way, and I am worried that nothing will."

"What would you do then?" Hermione glanced at her watch. The Portkey that would be taking her home was going to activate soon. Draco had invited her along to find the place they were to begin, but that is where her part of the journey ended. Even if she could take the time off from work, Draco would not let her come. She wasn't prepared like he was. He'd spent years studying what kinds of curses and spells might be in place. After the Horcrux hunt and her kidnapping, Hermione was fairly convinced that she could live the rest of her days without any more adventure.

Draco noticed her look at her watch and checked his own. "I don't know what I would do. Maybe write about my adventures? All the things I had to do to build my collection? I would like to write histories revolving around my artifacts. I doubt anyone would read them, but it sounds fulfilling doesn't it?"

Hermione smiled. The action felt foreign on her face and she could feel her muscles trying to resist. "It does sound fulfilling. I guess it is time for me to leave."

Hermione pulled the small elephant out of her pocket. It was the same one Draco had given her to Portkey her out of the castle by Loch Ness when he rescued her. Draco pulled her into a quick but bone crushing hug.

"I will be home soon, Hermione. I don't want to lose you either." Draco quickly stepped back so that he wouldn't be touching her when the Portkey activated. He saw Hermione's hand go up in a wave just before the Portkey activated and she disappeared. Draco picked up his bags and threw them on the top bunk in one of the bedrooms, and armed with just his wand and a bag of potions and talismans, he went outside to meet Bill and begin his search.

Once Hermione appeared in her living room she immediately had to sit on the floor to re-orient. Her head was spinning and her stomach was rolling in on itself. Portkeys always made her want to vomit, but long distance travel was excruciating in that manner. She would take a good old fashioned Muggle aero plane with all the risks of crashing over long distance magical travel any day. As soon as her head was clear, Hermione went to the bathroom and washed the sand and grit from her face. Being away from the desert and in her own clean home she was able to see how much sand was actually all over her. It was in her hair and trapped in every tiny crease of her clothing. Her hair was wild and windswept like it always looked in her school days. When Hermione's face felt sufficiently clean she spoke to her reflection in the mirror.

"Draco thinks he has found something he is meant to do and is content with actually doing it. What about you, Hermione? What is your destiny? Or destinies? Draco? Work? Resolving things with Harry? What is it going to take to make you feel whole again?"

The woman in the mirror stared back at Hermione with wide tired eyes. Of course she had no answers for herself, and after a shower, a warm cup of soup, and a good night's sleep she still had none.

* * *

**A/N: Hey all. I do apologize for the huge break in between updates. My computer crashed and I just recently replaced it. I actually started writing again, but then my mother died and it pushed my back a little further. The last couple of months have been kind of difficult. But everything is getting back on track slowly but surely. I know this chapter is a little short, but I hope you can forgive me for that. It is also unbeta'd. I did a grammar and spell check, but that was it. I couldn't bear to make you guys wait any longer for it. I would like the next chapters to be beta'd though so… anyway, I need some opinions. Do you want the next chapter to be what's happening with Hermione, or with Draco? I am curious to see where you all want the story to go next. Thanks for sticking with me!!!**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I am not JKR

Liberation

Chapter 11

Three long days had passed since Draco and Bill started their search for the Ankh. Hermione decided that rather than fret about what could possibly be going on in Egypt, she would try to rekindle her friendship with Harry. She understood that he was angry that she'd kept everything that had happened to her a secret from him, but she wanted to believe they were closer than that. So on the first day after Draco left, Hermione made plans to ambush Harry at the Ministry. She'd owled a few times over the last week but he'd responded only saying they would talk soon. Hermione figured that 'soon' had already come.

She was trying to keep her feelings for Draco in perspective. There was undeniably an attraction for her, a very strong pull to him that was quickly approaching love despite the little time they'd spent in each other's company. She believed he was meant to save her but she didn't want to put all her hopes into him. Harry was always her rock and she was his, and it was killing her that just because she'd kept a secret and didn't want to marry him that their friendship might be over. Hermione knew that the bad blood Draco and Harry had in the past wasn't the issue either because they seemed to have gotten over that years ago. Regardless of the reasons that Harry had been avoiding Hermione, she admitted to herself that the distance had been good. On hindsight she could see her attachment to Harry, and her refusal to allow anyone else to become as close as him was a little dysfunctional and sort of unhealthy. Having all those awful things happen to her when she was kidnapped opened her eyes a little bit to the other things in her life that weren't as well as they could be. That didn't mean she wanted Harry out of her life, she simply wanted to firmly establish that they were friends, and that she may need a little help sometimes, but she was ready to stand firmly on her own two feet.

Hermione reflected back to her days at Hogwarts and the year they were searching for Horcruxes, amused at how the roles had flipped. Back then she was the one who held everything and everyone together. Harry would get mad at her over things just because Ron did and wouldn't even try to see her side of the story, and somehow Hermione would save the day and everything was all right again. While Hermione was in school getting her Healer's credentials Harry held things together. He was her stand-in date for every social event. He was the one who held her when she cried over the stress of her studying and practicals, he was the one who came over for movies and drinks on Friday nights, and he was the one who made sure Ron and Hermione did not drift completely apart. Now Hermione had no idea where they stood.

The halls of the Ministry were filled with the normal bustle of employees scurrying from one place to the next. Despite the completely new regime running the Ministry of Magic, appearances remained the same as always. The only difference was the statue of Magical Brethren was no longer there; in its stead was the fountain magically changed to appear as just a fountain and nothing else. An elaborate fountain carved from marble rising out of crystal pool of water in three large tiers. There were no wizards, witches, elves, centaurs, or goblins anywhere on it. Hermione appreciated that even if the fountain really represented nothing; it was pretty to look at and offended no one.

Several Ministry employees nodded hello or stopped Hermione for a chat on her way to Harry's office. She was widely known even before she disappeared at the benefit thanks to her connections with Harry Potter and involvement in the war, and Hermione was belatedly realizing how careless she'd been with her social life over the years. At least some of these people were true friends despite her social status, and although she'd always been kind to her acquaintances, she felt rather lucky that they were kind in return. She was the queen of the brush off and several of those people who stopped to chat had been declined an invitation by her before. She wondered what they said about her behind her back.

The door to Harry's office was cracked open when she arrived and she could him talking in a low tone and with a very feminine laugh coming in response. The door opened fully and Eliza Hamilton backed out, but not before Hermione caught her giving Harry a long goodbye kiss. When she turned she bumped into a stunned, but slightly pleased Hermione.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't see you there." Eliza blushed and glanced at Harry. Harry looked at Hermione a bit sheepishly.

"That is quite all right. I was just stopping by to see if Harry had a moment to chat, but if you're busy Harry, I can come back another time." Hermione tried to appear breezy.

"I was just leaving. It was good seeing you again, Hermione!" Eliza lifted her fingers in a short wave and flitted off down the hall.

Hermione watched the blonde beauty go, letting the smile grow on her face. Eliza was a good person and Hermione did feel bad that Draco dumped her like he did, but perhaps things were working out better than anyone had hoped. When Hermione turned back to Harry his sheepish expression was gone, but his face was still slightly red.

"Uh, look, Hermione…" Harry trailed off.

"Harry, I am really happy for you. Can I come in?" Hermione pushed past Harry and entered the office without waiting for a response. They really needed to talk and she wasn't going to let him avoid her this time.

Harry shut the door behind her and gestured for her to take a seat. She sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and was relieved when he took the other. If he was angry with her, he would have sat in the chair on the other side of his desk. She'd seen him resort to that sort of formality before.

"I see you really have been busy lately and not just blowing me off," Hermione commented trying to keep her tone easy.

Harry dragged a hand through his hair, roughing it up in the same way he did when they kids in school. "I kind of felt like a hypocrite, you know."

"No, I don't know. Why don't you explain?" Hermione did have an idea of why he felt like a hypocrite, but it was important she hear it from him.

"Well, you know. I got really mad at you for hooking up with Draco after he dumped Eliza so easily. I bumped into Eliza in Diagon Alley after I left your house that morning, she saw I was upset, and the next thing you know we were chatting over coffee. Don't worry, I didn't tell her any of your secrets, only that we were kind of having a spat. Anyway, I discovered that she wasn't all that upset about Draco and knew it was coming. One thing led to another and we have been inseparable ever since. I should have told you. I feel like a world-class prat for just leaving you hanging like that and then hooking up with Draco's ex after I said shouldn't have gotten with Draco. After all, you do know Draco better than I know Eliza." Harry stood up to pour them both some tea while he was talking. Hermione took the proffered cup and sipped deeply.

"Harry, I don't even want to talk about our argument. I just want us to be friends. I sensed that you liked Eliza at Ron and Harry's dinner party, and I also believed the feelings were mutual. I think you two are well suited to each other and I hope it works out. If there are no hard feelings between her and Draco, maybe we could all get together sometime."

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "I love you, Hermione. Please don't forget that. I'm sure Eliza can stand Draco's presence if it means I can see you more. She is a very understanding girl, just like you. I think that is one of the reasons I am so attracted to her. She said that she and Draco were never really in love. She mentioned that she never once woke up in the same bed with him –"

Hermione held up a hand. "Harry! Isn't that a little too much information?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose, but it is kind of important. Eliza thought it was simply because he didn't care enough about her, but now she thinks it is because he was scared of the commitment it would symbolize."

"Interesting," was all Hermione could think to say. She hadn't shared a bed with Draco at all so she would not know how he behaved in the mornings, but this was a good heads-up. Based on Harry's expression, Hermione could take it for the friendly warning that it really was.

The pair sipped their tea in relative silence for a minute before Hermione spoke again. "Look, Harry, I am really sorry for everything I didn't tell you before. You just have to see it from my perspective. It was such a _shaming _experience. I didn't know what else to do. It made realize that I am strong, but not that strong. I am still trying to figure it all out, but I finally feel like I can be okay. I just know I won't be okay if I don't have you in my life."

That atmosphere in the room lightened considerably after Hermione said her peace. The tension was eased and the air did not seem as thick. The Quaffle was on Harry's side now and he knew what to do with it.

Harry stood and pulled Hermione into a warm hug. "I missed you. Everything's going to be just fine."

Hermione nodded into Harry's shoulder and sniffled, fighting back the threatening tears. Harry did the same and squeezed her once more before returning to his desk, this time in his chair on the other side. The distance this time was not to signify a conflict, but to keep from getting emotional. Hermione had seen him do that before too.

"So, I hear that Bill and Malfoy took off for Egypt. Eliza says he is probably on a fool's errand. Do you think that's true?"

Hermione frowned. With all of Eliza's studies into magical history one would think she might have more faith, but it was true that the few people who did know about the Ankh chalked it up to myth. Kind of like everyone did with the Deathly Hallows. Thinking about it from that perspective, Hermione wished people would take Draco more seriously. Also, Harry had not been to the Valley of the Kings. He didn't feel the magic there.

"I don't think Bill would have gone if there wasn't some possible truth to it being there," Hermione replied. She wanted to keep her feelings about Draco's reaction to the magic pulsing around them to herself. It would ruin it for her and Draco somehow if Harry shot it down it as adrenaline and excitement. She didn't think he would do that necessarily, but it was just easier for her peace of mind to not delve into the details. The last thing she wanted to focus on was the possible kinds of danger he could be in.

Harry gave another of his signature shrugs. "That's probably true. I just kind of figured that maybe he was just humoring Draco because he knows Egypt so well. Though right before he left he had dinner with Ron and I, and he said that he was going to take this seriously because you always should when you are dealing with the unknown."

"Sage advice," Hermione muttered quietly. "Listen Harry, I think that maybe Draco was right and he is going to find it. I don't know how hard it is going to be for him, but if this thing does exist, it is very dangerous and must be destroyed right away. That is going to be hard for him, kind of like how finding the Philosopher's Stone was impossible for anyone who might have an inkling of desire to use it. He doesn't want to use it, of course because it is evil, but any shred of desire and the thing could destroy him."

So much for not thinking about the details. Hermione's hands were clenched into fists, her skin shiny and white around the knuckles.

"Relax, Hermione. I am sure everything will be okay." This time Harry didn't sound so sure.

Hermione quickly changed the subject to work and after a few more minutes of catching up she excused herself. The little carved elephant that Draco had given her was weighing heavily in her pocket as she walked away from the visitors entrance of the Ministry. Pulling the figurine out, she held it gently in the palms of her hands and stared at it as if it would give her some sort of message telling her that Draco was all right. Feeling foolish, she stuffed it back into her pocket and went home to get ready for the evening shift at work.

* * *

"This is amazing. I have never seen so much gold, and trust me; I have seen a lot of gold." Bill ran a hand along the tunnel walls, his eyes gleaming in the torchlight reflecting both the flame and the gold from the walls. "This is some serious treasure the goblins don't need to hear about."

Draco grunted his assent. He doubted the goblins would even be able to get in the place. They were about three quarters of the way to the place where the Ankh was, based off of Draco's estimation. The magical charge in the air was so thick that the hairs on Draco's arms and the back of his neck were standing on end. There was also the unmistakable black feeling of pure evil hanging in the air, which seemed to cloud his vision. He was moving forward based on the sense of being drawn towards the Ankh rather than seeing with his own eyes. Bill tagged a few paces behind; giving the tunnel walls more attention than Draco's singularly focused mind was capable of.

The entrance to the tunnel was surprising easy to find. They only had to dig through the sand about eight feet down before they encountered a stone slab marked in an ancient runic alphabet. It was in the form of a riddle, something Bill and Draco were both familiar with. The runes were paired with an arithmantic calculation so that each translation could have two meanings. The wrong one could bring about a curse, but reciting the correct one would move the stone slab further off the opening to the tunnel. Bill mistakenly spoke the incorrect translation out loud on the first try, and the sand they had just dug and magically piled a few feet away from the hole had immediately started to fill back in around them. The sand was up to their necks before Draco could chant the correct translation. Once he did, the sand disappeared and the stone slab moved a few inches with a loud grating sound.

The entire length of the tunnel was lined in gold with a round column of stones placed strategically every ten feet. After careful examination Bill determined that the gold was indeed pure and that the pillars were there for support and not aesthetics. Draco agreed that unless the walls were several feet thick, solid gold would be too soft to hold up such a large quantity of sand undisturbed. For the first half of the tunnel's distance hieroglyphics spelled out the story of King Tut's short life as known by the general public. The last half of the tunnel told the story again, this time with the gruesome magical details.

Despite the growing sensation of evil that Bill felt, he could not help but be impressed with how accurate Draco's research and predictions were. Draco too was boasting deep down inside, but he would save the real triumph for when the Ankh was found. His only hope was that once the magical core inside was destroyed that the Ankh itself would remain. Some tangible proof of this journey would be fantastic.

"This is it," Draco whispered as they reached the end of the tunnel. The long hallway spread out into a large round chamber. With the light from their torches, the ground appeared to be bowled and the middle of the pole was a stone plinth on which sarcophagus stood. The light from their torches was not enough to see across the chamber, so Draco cast a Lumos Maximus charm hesitantly. They had not used their wands yet and he wasn't sure what would happen when he did. As soon as he cast the spell torches flared all around the room and the sarcophagus lifted off of its plinth. Draco and Bill both shielded their eyes from the blast of light and stepped back a few feet into the more dimly lit tunnel.

"Did you see it?" Draco pointed directly in front of him at the sarcophagus. Bill followed his fingers and gasped.

"It looks just like your drawings," he murmured quietly. "It is quite large."

Suddenly Bill felt a compulsion to approach the Ankh and he took a fast step into the chamber. As soon as his foot made contact with the slanted portion of the floor it crumbled away and Bill flailed his arms wildly, trying to regain his balance as the bits of broken stone fell into the exposed chasm. Draco reached out quickly and snagged a strap on the back of Bill's rucksack and jerked backwards. Bill fell on top of Draco in heap of dust, his rucksack crushing one of Draco's ribs.

Bill shakily climbed off of Draco and rose to his feet. After helping Draco to his feet he turned away from his savior and put his forehead on the smooth, cool, gold wall.

"I apologize; I don't know what came over me."

Draco gingerly pressed his fingers into his side, assessing the damage. He used his wand to do a simple healing spell that would ease the pain of the broken rib, but he was still hesitant to use stronger spells so opted for waiting to actually heal his broken rib.

"It's okay, Bill. We just need to reevaluate how we are going to do this. Obviously we weren't going to be able to just walk right up to it."

Bill turned shamefaced towards Draco. The sarcophagus was glowing in the center of the bowl ever so slightly, but there was a pulsing light around the Ankh. It looked a beating heart. Despair washed over Bill as he realized that he might not be able to help Draco get the Ankh. He'd seen this before, this kind of finality in a mission where one man goes on to seek the treasure while the other has to go back. Bill slowly walked up to and placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco did not avert his eyes from the pulsing light around the Ankh.

"Draco, I really, er… I mean I am more careful than that, I was—"

"You were compulsed to. I felt it too." Draco turned to face Bill.

Bill dropped his hand. "Then why were you able to stay back?"

Draco didn't answer right away. The truth was he didn't know. Perhaps if Bill hadn't reacted so quickly and stepped on the crumbling floor Draco might have followed him right along. Perhaps Bill wasn't meant to destroy the power inside the Ankh and only Draco could. If Bill had needed any convincing that this thing was real, that was it. He could feel the magical core calling to them, begging for release. It was such a powerful object, evil in its very nature in a way that the Philosopher's Stone was not even though they were both highly powerful objects. The Ankh could compel a person to do evil, while the person had to desire to do evil with the Stone.

"What do you reckon? Should I try to move along the wall and test the ground as I go? Maybe you could even do a hover charm on me to see if I can get to it that way?" Draco suggested lamely. He was feeling desperate to the get the thing and destroy what was in it. So far it had not occurred to him that he might not destroy the core inside. That task was going to be more dangerous than getting to it.

"Wait, Draco," Bill said as he pulled out his wand and did some complicated charms in the air. He swirled his wand and muttered incantations under his breath at lightning speed. Draco was impressed; he'd seen very few other wizards use such difficult spells with that kind of ease and confidence. A thin stream of light was trailing the tip of Bill's wand as he traced it through the air. After a moment Bill stopped chanting and pointed his wand at the bowled floor in the chamber before them. Draco jumped in surprise as Bill shot a Reduction spell at the floor. The entire floor around the Ankh crumbled away. The sarcophagus sat alone on the plinth held suspended in the air.

"Are you insane?" Draco shouted at Bill.

Bill sheathed his wand and looked at Draco with a big grin on his face. "You said yourself that the Ankh wants to be found. Kashta died trying to hide it, right? Because he obviously didn't have the strength to destroy and he is hoping someone else does. The only magic in this room is the very powerful spell holding up the plinth in the center of the bowl. That was the only trick in this room. You can summon the whole sarcophagus right to where we are. Go ahead, do it."

Draco looked at Bill doubtfully, but raised his wand and summoned the sarcophagus plinth and all. It floated right up to the men and Draco dropped it carefully on the ground with a thud. The sarcophagus was an exact replica of King Tut's upon closer inspection. As he stared at it Draco had a sudden realization, and with it a sense of evil, dread, and fear overcame him. Bill was leaning on the wall again; sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes. Clearly he could feel how dangerous this thing was as well. Fortunately both Bill and Draco had plenty of experience with such matters, Bill through his career, and Draco through his unfortunate connection to Lord Voldemort.

"Destroy it."

Bill and Draco pointed their wands directly at the sarcophagus, for that is where the words were coming from. The voice was ancient and raspy and it scared the living daylights out of Draco.

"Bill, Kashta is in there. I mean, he sealed himself in the sarcophagus to keep himself from being able to retrieve the Ankh. I know it," Draco corrected himself.

"DESTROY IT!"

The plinth began to shake and rattle the longer Bill and Draco stood there. The light around the thing was blinding and starting to hurt, but they knew the real danger was getting the Ankh free of the Sarcophagus.

"Where is the spell, Bill? How are we supposed to destroy it? This hurts!" Draco shouted over the sound of the stone plinth grinding against the floor of the tunnel. It was actually making its way towards the direction Bill and Draco had just come as if it was trying to get out.

"Look, Draco!" Bill shouted as the plinth worked its way along. "There is writing all over this thing!"

Draco looked closely keeping step with the slow movement of the sarcophagus. There were words written in an ancient language. Upon closer inspection Draco recognized it as Aramaic, one of the most Ancient languages, forgotten by many, but one of Draco's favorites to study.

Bill looked at Draco meaningfully and without having to discuss it they both began reading the words along the sarcophagus. With each repetition of the phrase the plinth moved faster and the Ankh rattled harder against its metal prison trying to get itself free. After the seventh repetition Bill and Draco were actually jogging to keep up with the sarcophagus, making it halfway back up the tunnel. Around them the columns were crumbling and the golden walls were cracking. Sand was beginning to seep in, ready to trap the two unfortunate souls daring to free the Ankh. Just as Draco and Bill began to recite the incantation for the eighth time the Sarcophagus stilled, split open and the lid fell away, trapping the Ankh below it. The lid continued to rattle, but it was the open casket that caught their attention. Inside the dust of thousands year old bones were falling like a mist on perfectly preserved piece of papyrus rolled up and bound with a gold ring.

Mindful of the torrent of sand seeping through the cracks in the walls Draco hastily picked up the scroll and carefully unrolled it.

"This is it Bill! It says 'I am Kashta, and you have found my secret. Destroy this thing if your soul is pure. Destroy this thing if your blood is pure. Destroy this thing if your heart knows love. Destroy this thing if you value life. It will ruin you if you cannot ruin it. Banish the thing inside. Banish the thing inside. Only the true can overcome. Banish the thing inside.' It is a rough translation, but that is all it says." Draco looked at the Ankh with frustration, and then at the sand seeping in around them.

"We don't have much time, Draco. I can't fight it, whatever is in there. It is making me want it too much. This is yours! Maybe you just have to banish it. Do a banishing spell, like the Necromancers who want to banish spirits for eternity. Killing a spirit kills the spirit's core, which is the thing that allows it to be a spirit." Bill started chanting a complex banishing charm, forcing Draco to follow along and perfect the wand movements. The lid rattled so strongly it flipped over, the Ankh was shaking furiously and rattling so quickly it hummed against the metal that held it. Distracted, Bill took one shaky step after another toward the Ankh with his hand outstretched in a claw. The veins on his face were popping out as he strained against the urge to snatch the thing in his hands and disappear.

Draco grabbed Bill around the shoulders and hauled him back. He pushed forward to get to the Ankh first, but Bill was up and threw a right hook at the back of Draco's head. The blond staggered backwards, lights popping behind his eyes. He had to get Bill out of there before he did something they would all regret. Draco still had the ring that held the scroll in place pressed into the palm of his hand. Bill was scrabbling at the lid, trying to still it so he could reach the Ankh as Draco yanked him back again and aimed a stunner at him. Bill blocked it easily and growled at Draco before turning back towards the Ankh. Using all of his strength Draco brought both fists down on the back of Bill's head, knocking him unconscious.

"I'm sorry Bill, but you'll thank me later." Draco pulled Bill away from the Ankh and slipped the ring around his thumb. Draco pointed his wand at the ring on Bill's hand and whispered "Portus" and then stepped back and leaned against the wall. A great cracking sound rent the air as another part of the tunnel began to cave in. The air was beginning to get choked with the dust of the falling sand and Draco was finding it difficult to breathe. Bill began to stir and opened his eyes right before the ring glowed blue and he disappeared to safety.

Draco felt weighted as he pushed through the sand to get at the Ankh. It was still rattling against the lid more furiously that ever. Draco could barely make out its shape as it buzzed in place. Draco lifted his wand and silently did the spell movements one last time before he started chanting the banishing spell to destroy the Ankh.

"_Licentia is locus , malum phasmatis_

_Solvo ut unde vos venit_

_Vestri terrenus subsisto est super_

_expello absentis expello absentis expello absentis"_

The roaring as the tunnel collapsed around Draco filled his head as he chanted over and over again. The spell was weakening him, draining his own magical core as he forced every ounce of his energy into the breaking the thing inside the Ankh. He could feel the spirit of King's Tut's magic as it left its prison and filled the tunnel around Draco. He was unconscious of the sand gathering around his knees, of the blood running from his nose as he strained to fight the power the around him and send it away. Finally, with the sound of an inhuman scream, the scream only a tortured soul can make, there was a blinding flash and the Ankh cracked open and lay still. Draco closed his hand around the two pieces of gold and clutched tightly. He took several gasping breaths trying to regain his strength when a large chasm split in the wall above him and the sand started rushing in.

* * *

**A/N: **The spell roughly translated: Leave this place evil spirit**, **Release to whence you came**, **Your earthly stay is over**, **Banish away banish away banish away. Not very good, I know.

Please for the love of all that is holy, review!!!! Just kidding, reviews would be great though.

Thanks to olgameisterfunk for her super cool beta job!!!! Oh, and she made a banner for this, I will attach a link to my profile so you can check it out.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I am not JKR

Liberation

Chapter 12

Draco paused for a fraction of a second to stare at the sand rushing through the cracks in the golden walls before he pulled himself up and lunged for the sarcophagus lid. The sand had buried the lid except for a small corner which Draco grabbed at and tried to pull free. There was too much sand on it to free with his hands and he was afraid that any spells would take too long to clear it. Draco's lungs were beginning to burn and the sand began to fall so heavily around him he could no longer see. Gripping his wand tightly in his right hand, and the Ankh in his left, Draco Apparated out of the tunnel and right into the tent still sitting where he and Bill had set up camp several days before.

Once inside the tent Draco fell to the ground in a heap and clawed at his eyes in a feeble attempt to get out the sand that was scratching his delicate corneas. Bill, who was waiting in the tent for Draco, rushed over and dowsed his face with water from his wand, after which he poured a healing salve directly over Draco's eyes. Draco tried to thank Bill for healing his eyes but the dust and sand clogging his throat made it impossible for him to speak. After a long coughing fit, Draco was finally able to breathe normally.

"Thanks." Draco's throat was hoarse and dry. Bill squatted down and handed him a cup of tepid tea and another healing potion.

"I'm so sorry, mate. I really thought I bollixed the whole thing and just left you there to die." Bill was resolutely trying not to look at Draco, but his eyes kept straying to the golden beetle shaped Ankh still tightly wound up in Draco's fingers.

Draco was gripping the broken Ankh so tightly he actually had to use his other hand to unwind his fingers and free it. His palm held an impression of the details on the Ankh, including the crack right down its middle. Draco placed the Ankh gingerly on the floor of the tent directly in front of where he was sitting. Bill went from his squat to a full sit on the floor directly across from Draco.

"You didn't ruin anything. You had to go," Draco said looking Bill directly in his blue eyes trying to convey how sincerely he meant it. There was no way they would have survived the collapsing tunnel if Bill was in there still trying to fight Draco for the Ankh.

Bill met Draco's eyes for a moment before turning away quickly. Draco could not help but notice that the other man's eyes were red-rimmed and sad.

"Really, Bill, you did great. I got it, no sweat, and you can't even feel the evil coming off it anymore." Draco waved a hand over the Ankh as if to say 'see, nothing.'

"I know. I just never thought I had that in me. I mean, I have been hunting treasures for years and never had the desire to _steal_ one let along fight someone for it and put people in danger. I have seen it, but I have never felt anything like it before. I can't help but feel ashamed." Bill tugged a hand through his dirty hair and finally met Draco's eyes willingly. "I am chuffed that you're back though, I was really worried."

"Well, I'm only angry I wasn't able to save any bit of the sarcophagus or the scroll with Kashta's messages on it," Draco admitted trying to make light of Bill's worries. The red head would never know how deeply indebted Draco felt towards him just for believing in him and being there at all.

Bill finally smiled and stood up quickly. He walked to the tent's little kitchen and returned to Draco who remained seated on the floor. In Bill's hand was the very scroll that Draco was missing.

"How did you get out with that?"

"When I took off my pack it fell on the floor. I think maybe when we were fighting it got shoved in between my bag and my back." Bill handed the scroll with the ring wrapped back around it to Draco happily and with an expression that clearly said he was glad he did one thing right.

Draco took the scroll gratefully and placed it next to the Ankh. "See? Without you, I probably would not have this."

Apparently it was not the right thing to say because Bill instantly went solemn. Draco left him to his thoughts and getting up on shaky legs he sealed his treasure in his pack (not that he didn't trust Bill) and went into the tent's makeshift shower. Draco didn't emerge from the water until there was no hint of sand anywhere on his person. His whole body was covered in tiny scratches and bruises from the crushing pressure of the sharp little rocks. When Draco finally emerged from the shower it was to the welcoming scent of frying eggs and bacon. His stomach gave an audible rumble and Draco tried to remember the last time he'd eaten and couldn't remember when it was.

"I'll be leaving in just a little while, time to get home to Fleur and Victoire," Bill said without turning around, but in that same defeated tone he'd used earlier.

Draco set out a couple of plates and sat down at the table. "I think I am going to stay for a couple more days. I want to go back to the Valley of the Kings and revisit Tut's tomb, and I would like to stop off in France on my way home."

Bill nodded and served up the food. They sat in silence for a few more minutes chewing thoughtfully before Draco couldn't take it anymore.

"Bill, you did _nothing_ wrong. If anything I'm sorry I had to knock you out. We knew the Ankh was calling to me and not you, and we also knew that there was a chance one of us would react the way we did." Draco slapped the table with the last word as if to emphasise his point. "So will you relax?"

Bill gave a half hearted nod in agreement before turning back to his meal. Draco pondered what could possibly make Bill so upset over his reaction. Was it that he thought Fleur would be disappointed? Was he just guilty about fighting Draco and slowing him down? If that was the case then he needed to get over that because Draco could have never succeeded without Bill's help. The only other possible explanation Draco could come up with was that Bill expected to be the one that was pure of heart and having an ex-Death Eater show him up was grating on him. Draco did not want that to be the reason Bill was upset.

"Bill, tell me honestly, man, are you bothered that it was me, the once supporter of Voldemort who was able to destroy the Ankh and not you?" Draco asked sharply as if daring Bill not to answer.

Startled Bill did not answer immediately. Finally his shoulders sagged in defeat. "It did cross my mind, and that makes me ashamed more than anything because I know you are not like that. This was your mission, I just forgot all that when I fell under the power of that hidden magical core. I always get a bit defensive and sulky when I fail a mission. Don't mind me."

"Good. That just proves that good and evil are not black and white, and no one, absolutely no one, is immune. Don't be ashamed you assumed ill of me, people do it all the time. Some of us just have to go through life proving that we are decent, and thanks to my history I am one of them. I have come to terms with it. All I can do is try to make the right decisions from one day to the next. Now, before you leave will you give some time to write a letter for you to take to Hermione?"

Bill agreed knowing that having Draco as a friend was going to be very good for him.

* * *

Hermione looked at her watch for the fiftieth time that evening causing one of her employees to snicker.

"Hot date, tonight?"

"What?" Hermione replied looking at her watch again and then blushing. "Not a hot date, no."

Siobhan wasn't convinced. "I've never seen you so eager to have a shift over before. You _are_ the boss; if you want to leave you can leave. We don't need the help tonight."

What Hermione was waiting for was an owl. Draco had said three days. If she didn't hear from him in three days she was to go and visit with Fleur to tell her what was actually going on in Egypt. Hermione did not want to make that trip and there was only ten more hours left before that task might befall her. She was really hoping to have received and owl already, or even better, a visit from Draco himself. She kept telling herself that it was too soon in their relationship to get so worked up over him going on such a dangerous mission, but who was she kidding? If something happened to Draco, Hermione knew it would take her a very long time to get over it. She may be getting to know herself, but that much she already was fully aware of.

"You're right, Siobhan. I am going home." Hermione decided it would be much easier to fret at home with an old favourite film in the background rather than the already stressful hospital sounds.

By the time Hermione was at home she was down to nine hours before she would have to visit Fleur. After a long bath in which she tried to relax she was down to eight, and by the time she'd finished drinking some tea, eating a sandwich, and cleaning her kitchen she was down to seven. It was five in the afternoon and the despite how badly she wanted Draco home, the day was whizzing by. Time was so finicky when one wanted it to just stop.

Hermione selected a romantic comedy that was exactly two hours long and turned it on, but before the opening credits were even finished there was a loud knock on her door. She jammed a fist in her mouth to stifle her scream and then removed it laughing nervously at herself. _It is probably just Harry,_ she thought.

To Hermione's bittersweet surprise a dazed looking Bill was standing at her door.

"Bill! Are you all right?" Hermione exclaimed her hand fluttering to cover her loudly thumping heart.

Bill shook his head as if to clear it and grinned broadly at Hermione's flustered expression. "I'm fine; it is just that International Portkey travel makes me a little dizzy. Before you ask, Draco is fine, and no, he is not with me, but he sent this."

Hermione sighed with relief and disappointment as she took the proffered letter in Bill's outstretched hand.

"Would you like to come in? Have a drink?" Hermione asked stepping back and opening the door wider.

"No, I really want to get home to my family. Thanks for the offer though. I will be in touch soon, Hermione!"

Bill Apparated away without another word. _That was odd. _Hermione shut the door quickly and opened the letter without even sitting down. Bill hadn't told her anything really, not even if they'd found the Ankh and she hoped the letter had some answers. It did.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I wanted to let you know before anyone (besides Bill, of course) that I successfully retrieved the Ankh and it is everything I expected it to be. The mission was accomplished with minimal drama, no injuries, and I will give you a full report upon my return. I want to thank you for your endearing support in this mission. I saw the worry in your eyes when you left us in Egypt and it fully convinced me that your concern for me was genuine. I wanted you there so that I might be able to demonstrate to you that what I was looking for was real and not some vestige of a boyhood whim that I refused to let go. Perhaps my appeal to you was unnecessary because your support was always genuine and unwavering. I suppose I wanted a witness in the event that we failed and never came home. You felt that awesome power and only you would have been able to lead people to the correct location. I apologise deeply if you find that offensive, but it felt it necessary at the time, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for prevailing upon you in such a way. I admit that I was concerned for Bill's safety far above my own, but my thoughts were constantly with you and it was you I thought of first when I was finally free of the Ankh's prison._

At this point, Hermione began to wonder if the letter was turning into a 'Dear John' letter and Draco was planning to leave her before they could finally be together.

_I will not be returning to England for a couple more days. There are few things I want to see in Egypt and then I plan to stop in France to visit an old friend. I am missing you terribly and look forward to seeing you as soon as possible, but this stop in France should not take long and I will be home soon. Once again thank you for understanding why I had to do this and I look forward to seeing your beautiful face again._

_With Love, _

_Draco_

Hermione read the short letter three full times before clutching it to her chest and fighting back tears. He did want to be with her. She was only just wondering what on earth would make him want to stop in France before coming back to England, but it was not up to her to decide how to live his life. He really didn't have to assure her of anything considering they had only been a couple for a few weeks, but he did and that was really the sweetest thing he could have done. The letter was successful in the expulsion of her worry, but it only fuelled her desire to see Draco again.

That night Hermione slept with Draco's letter tucked under pillow just like one might expect of a schoolgirl. Her sleep was not fitful for once and she had no dream which was relief. When she awoke she was more refreshed than ever and beginning to feel confident that her life was finally back on track. Every time she thought of Draco her heart raced and she felt short of breath and the only thing that was making her nervous now was if he felt for her as strongly as she did for him. She only had two days to find out.

***************************************************************************************A/N: Okay, short chapter with no big cliff hanger. Got my settings redone so it is back to UK English. Sorry for all the inconsistency. Thanks to all the reviews from the previous chapter and please be kind and review this one too! I will update again within a week (I hope). Oh, and btw, I did not get that link posted for the banner. Trying to get it fixed soon.**


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I am not JKR

Liberation

Chapter 13

The Henri IV, Dudognon Héritage Cognac that Hermione was saving for a special occasion sat on her dining table along with two snifters and a tray of with sweet pecan caramels, dark chocolate covered strawberries and cherries on one side, and savoury Lugano olives and shaved Iberico ham on the other. The ham was an indulgence just like the bourbon and she'd dropped eighty quid on the pound she'd gotten, but it was something her father got once a year for his anniversary and once he'd given her a piece. Tonight was a special occasion of sorts for Hermione and Harry was just about back to normal and Draco was coming over for the first time since he'd left to retrieve the Ankh.

The Henri IV and Iberico were out to celebrate two things; first Draco's success, and second, Hermione and Draco's relationship. She wasn't sure where the night would lead, but over the last week Hermione had learnt not only that she was beginning to fall in love with Draco, but that she was able to be on her own as well. Not once during the time that he was gone did her confidence in their relationship waver, and not once did she think that he might not want to be with her because of what happened when she was kidnapped. That did not mean she did not start to get nervous about those things in the waning minutes before he was due to arrive, but her life was finally beginning to feel freer. She felt less shackled from the concerns of before, and more, well adult was the only word she could think of.

Regardless of what happened that night she was going to enjoy the feeling of finally being liberated from her anxiety and enjoy what comes. Retrospectively, Hermione could see that there was no epiphany that led to her current contentment; she just needed time to heal. Having her world turned upside down by the addition of Draco in it helped, but even Hermione wasn't naive enough to know that he had everything to do with it.

Hermione turned the platter with appetisers on it slightly left so it was more centred on the table, stepped back, cocked her head, and then nodded in satisfaction. Afterwards she went to her room where she changed into a powder blue thin gauzy skirt that fell just below her knees and a comfortable white fitted cotton shirt with sleeves just to her elbow. It was the perfect spring outfit for an unusually warm early April evening. She toyed with her hair for a moment before deciding to put it up in twist with loose curls framing her face. It was a casual hairstyle to complete her casual look. No sooner had Hermione finished up when there was a knock on the door.

Hermione had to check the smile on her face before opening the door, she did not want to appear _too_ happy to see Draco, plus she figured her grin probably looked a little foolish.

"Hermione!" Draco exclaimed the moment she threw open the door. Draco was grinning as foolishly as she tried not to and he looked tan and very well from his time travelling. He held a bottle of Chateau Laffite and a smartly wrapped package in the other. Draco threw his arms around Hermione, gifts and all, to give her a warm hug.

"It is so good to see you!" Hermione said as she relieved Draco of the Bordeaux. "Is the Ankh in there?"

Draco closed the door behind him and held up the silver package in his hand. "This? No, this is something I picked up in France for you. The Ankh is in my pocket, but I was kind of hoping you might be more interested in seeing me."

Hermione blushed at Draco's jest, but quickly leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Of course it is you I want to see, I just wanted to see the thing that occupied so much of you for all this time. Well? May I?" Hermione held out her hand.

Draco was actually quite pleased that the first thing she asked for was the Ankh. He was very much looking forward to talking about it and showing her, but when he saw her even that left his mind for she was breathtaking. He didn't realise how much he'd truly missed her until he saw her again and it was not until the tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him to tread gently with her did he pull her into a hug rather than the deep kiss he actually wanted. Shuffling those thoughts aside, Draco led her to the couch and held her hand as he told her the story of the Ankh.

Hermione gasped and exclaimed at all the right moments not for one moment forgetting how dangerous the mission actually was for Bill and Draco. It was not until the very end when Draco pulled the Ankh out of his pocket did the gravity of his accomplishment really seek in.

"We are very lucky, you and I," Hermione murmured quietly as she turned the Ankh slowly over and over in her hand. It was polished and the gold shone jewel bright in the dwindling light from her window. The large crack in the middle had revealed a ruby inside that was the deepest crimson Hermione had ever seen. It looked like pure blood frozen into place and then burnished to the point that it almost glowed.

Draco shifted closer to her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "How do you mean?"

"To have succeeded so young." Hermione handed the Ankh back to Draco. "I can feel _you_ in that gold beetle just as much as I can feel the other magic that was in it. I can sense how important it is to you and how good it feels to have succeeded in finding it. It is how I feel about my work at St. Mungo's. It was like nothing else mattered but the work I do there."

Draco's eyebrows drew together in a slight frown. The hand on her shoulder moved to Hermione's hairline and he pushed some stray strands away from her eyes. "Why do you sound so sad? I would think that is a good thing."

Hermione sighed deeply and turned to look at him. She spent a moment truly studying his face. It was tanned, but she could still detect its normal paleness, his white blonde hair was clean cut, but not necessarily fashionably, his body, she knew was well sculpted and always well clothed. His nose and chin were still a little pointed just as they had been in their school days, and if she had to be honest his looks were more aristocratic than handsome. His eyes were different than she remembered, more steel in them and less indignation, but as imperfect as some of his features may be she wouldn't give any of them up for the world. Some of the contentedness she felt earlier began to ebb away as possible realities settled in.

Something that Hermione asked Draco about just before she left him Egypt resurfaced in her mind. "It's just that with us being so young, it kind of feels like we are _too_ lucky, that something terrible is going to happen to make up for all this good. I have great friends, my dream job, and a wonderful boyfriend, I can't help but worry that someday it is all going to fall apart. I mean what about you? Now that you have the Ankh, what's next? You never really answered me before."

"I did tell you, I want to write a history book. I am going to write one, and I was kind of hoping you would be there with me when I did." Draco leaned away from Hermione a little, but gripped both of her hands with his. "I am not moving forward with anything in my life without you beside me, love. And what is this nonsense that something terrible is bound to happen? Terrible things have happened already to both of us; it is time for some good. Sometimes I don't think I deserve it, but I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth."

Hermione laughed feeling silly for letting her insecurities show. She didn't say anything though. Instead she got up and opened the bottle of bourbon. Draco whistled when she handed him his glass.

"This is classy stuff," he commented looking at the bottle.

Hermione raised her glass and Draco followed suit. "Here's to moving forward."

"Moving forward," Draco repeated as he tapped his glass against hers. The liquor was smooth and perfect. Draco could taste oak, fruit, clover, and allspice in just a few drops. It was a truly well-picked bottle of Cognac.

"This is impressive," he commented. "Nice spread too."

Hermione smiled at him as he took in the view of the table. Her grin grew when he picked up a small slice of ham and savoured it with his eyes closed. When he opened them it was to look at her in utter surprise.

"Why Granger, I had no idea your taste was so refined," he said playfully.

Hermione mock scowled in reply. "I may have been raised in a Muggle household, but my parents did have some class."

"Forgive me for behaving like such a barbarian." Draco bent low to kiss Hermione as deeply as he'd wanted to the moment he walked in the door. He was pleased to feel her melting against him so he pulled her tighter and moved the kiss forward until he felt her stiffening and he abruptly stopped.

Breathless, Hermione pulled away. Draco was making her feel things in places she wasn't even aware of until now. Places that she'd never experienced any real pleasure in before anyway. Before she completely lost her control and he saw how aroused and insecure he was making her, she pointed at the gift he'd brought. Changing the subject, she hoped, would help her gather her nerve to do the things she wanted to do with him.

"What did you bring me?"

Draco was all too aware of her signals and perfectly understood her reticence. He walked back to the couch and picked up the silver package and handed it over. "I picked this up from an acquaintance in Paris. He is a bit of a book collector like you, and I thought you might like this. I remember you mentioning a long time ago, I think at some party at Pansy's, that you liked this story."

Hermione looked at Draco with confused wonder written all over her face. He had been at several parties, but she didn't recall having a conversation with him at any of them, let alone over her favourite old stories. In fact, the only time she could remember anything like that happening was when Pansy and Ron tried to set her up with an older gentleman who taught literature at a local Muggle college. He was a Squib, which Hermione did not mind, but he was incredibly pompous and disagreed with every one of Hermione's favourite choices. She'd specifically said that Candide was her favourite story in all of French literature, and he'd said that comedic tragedies were and insult to contradictions even. Draco couldn't have possibly remembered that, he wasn't even listening after all.

When Hermione opened the package her heart nearly stopped. It was not a printed book like she'd expected, but what appeared to be an old leather-bound journal. The faded initials F.A. were still visible on the front etched into the leather in an elegant script. Gingerly Hermione opened the cover. The first page said, 'Candide' in Voltaire's own handwriting.

"F.A. for Francois-Marie Arouet, more commonly known as Voltaire," Draco said unnecessarily. "I was going to get you an original edition, but my friend came across this and helped me acquire it. I hope you like it."

Hermione nearly scoffed in reply. "Like it? I don't even know what to say, I uh, I, wow."

Unable to verbalise an adequate thank you, Hermione put the book down and practically launched herself at Draco. Nobody in her life had ever taken such care to remember something she'd said before and they weren't even friends when she'd mentioned that book and he still remembered. It felt as if all the time they were carefully not associating with each other, they were just preparing for the time when they would finally be together. Hermione kissed Draco with the kind of abandon that he was longing for and it wasn't long before they were in Hermione's bed near naked and panting.

"We can stop now if you want to," Draco whispered as he traced his thumb along the waistband of Hermione's panties. "I completely understand."

Draco didn't need to mention the conversation they'd had the night that they decided to give each other a chance. Except for the unfortunate incident at the castle at the Loch, Hermione was otherwise a virgin.

"No, don't stop, I have to know what it feels like to do this in the heat of the moment. I care about you, and I think it's time." Hermione felt slightly chagrined at her response. She might as well have said 'I'm too old to have not had sex so let's just get it over with.' That wasn't what she felt at all though.

Draco didn't need any further encouragement and had them both naked in two swift movements. With her underwear off her felt oddly exposed even though they were underneath her blankets. Goose flesh broke out over every square inch of her body and Draco touch was feather light as he retraced the skin around her breasts a few times before rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. After a long lingering kiss Draco broke away from her mouth and tasted a trail down her throat and into the sweet junction between her breasts before taking the left nipple fully into his mouth. Hermione arched her back and unsure of what to do with her hands she gripped his hair and pushed his face harder into her chest. After giving equal attention to her right breast he came back up to her mouth.

While he was kissing her he reached down and slid on finger in between her slick folds. She nearly squealed with pleasure and opened her legs a little wider to accommodate him more. The feelings of apprehension at being touched there again were gone and she just wanted more. Draco was harder than a rock and was ready to take her, but the small scar he felt on the delicate skin beside her vagina encouraged him to get her even more ready than she already seemed to be. He wanted to climb under the covers and kiss the places she was hurt, but now was not the time for that. Instead he inserted his finger inside of her and hissed with pleasure as she arched up against him. He didn't even realise she was moving her hands until he felt one of them shyly close around his shaft.

"Gentle, Hermione," he purred. "I won't last if you do that."

Hermione grumbled a small protest, but obediently withdrew her hand. His cock was hard, hot, and as smooth as silk and she was eager to feel it inside her.

"Draco..." she moaned. Taking it as a sign that she was ready, Draco climbed on top of her and gently pushed himself inside her. Once there he closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment so that her body could adjust and he didn't come inside of her at once. She was tight and wonderful.

"Ohhh, Draco," Hermione repeated spreading her legs even wider. "Move, please."

Draco obeyed and very slowly started to move in and out of her. It was after only a few strokes when Hermione was matching him and they sped into a comfortable rhythm. Hermione cursed loudly just before she came eliciting a smile from Draco as he lost himself inside her. The whole moment could not have been exquisite. It was if the Fates had orchestrated it just for them. Unlike Hermione, however, Draco could not release his fear that she was going to have a flashback of being raped until the act was over. They lay in each other's sated and comfortable for some time before she spoke.

"I'm glad I wasn't a virgin, now that we've done it."

Draco looked at her in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Hermione was blushing from head to toe as she spoke. "I wish the circumstances were different of course, but I wouldn't want my first time with you to be marred with the pain of losing my virginity. I prefer to remember it this way."

"Do you really think you're over it? I kind of expected a bit of a scene," Draco said honestly as he twirled a piece of her hair around his finger.

Hermione pulled her hair free so she could prop herself on her elbow and look down into his eyes. They were still stormy and dark from his passion. "To be truthful, Draco, so was I. I guess I am stronger than I thought."

Draco leaned over and kissed her spurring another session of lovemaking, this time longer and more hands on as he let her explore him a little more than last time. When they were finished and Hermione lay drowsy in his arms, she tried to remember the words of warning Harry had given her about Draco. About his inability to show his commitment to a relationship or something of that sort, but his words were faded and jumbled in the back of her mind as Draco's arms tightened around her.

"Stay with me tonight, Draco," Hermione requested sleepily.

Hermione was too tired to notice the short pause between when she spoke and when he answered.

"Of course, Hermione." He kissed her gently on the lips just before they both fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning when Hermione awoke, it was to find the spot on the bed beside her was empty and cold.

* * *

**A/N: I am so completely evil and I know it. I can't wait for your reviews to see what everyone thinks might have happened! Thanks for reading and reviewing! This chapter is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Sorry for the delay in updating, but we had a power outage where I live for almost a week and I just got behind on everything. Thank you for your patience!!!!**


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I am not JKR

Liberation

Chapter 14

Hermione rolled back over and looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was not even six yet, not even light outside. The words that were tinny and distant the night before now echoed loudly in the cavernous space that was her brain as if Harry was shouting right into it. 'He would be gone every morning, Hermione. Be careful there.' Hermione pounded the pillow that was Draco's for a minute before burying her face into it and screaming loudly. After roughly three minutes of this display, Hermione put the pillow back down and calmly sat up.

"Calm down, Hermione," she said aloud to herself. "It doesn't mean he doesn't care, it just means he is not ready to make that leap."

Feeling reassured, but not reassured enough to feel better, Hermione jumped out of bed. The best way to avoid the heartbreak that was surely going to settle in was to go to work, so she did just that. She quickly threw on some clean clothes, ran one brush across her teeth, another through her hair, and she was out the door. Not more than ten minutes passed from waking to leaving.

* * *

Draco woke early to a mouthful of Hermione's hair. At first he had a flashback that he was waking up with a face full of sand, but he recovered quickly and was able to extricate the hair without disturbing its owner. She was sleeping so peacefully he refrained from pushing the messy curls away from her face so he could see it better. Instead he glanced at the time and satisfied that it was too early for her to wake up soon he slipped out of bed to get breakfast. He knew of a great little bakery that made the best croissants and if he hurried he would be there just as they opened to get the freshest bread.

After carefully and quietly slipping his clothes on, Draco snuck out of Hermione's room. To avoid waking her, Draco went outside before Apparating to the alleyway behind the bakery. It never even dawned on him that it was the first time he woke in the morning in someone else's house with the full intention of still being there when that someone woke as well. He was happy and contented and couldn't wait to surprise Hermione with breakfast in bed. He was really pleased with himself for finally finding the person he actually wanted to wake up to. He would have settled for Eliza if he had to, and he knew they could have been reasonably happy together, but Hermione was bliss, and he was elated.

Perhaps it was Draco's intuition or his connection with Hermione was deeper than he thought, but he could sense something was wrong the minute he walked through her front door. His trained eye for details noticed that her light travelling cloak wasn't hanging by the door anymore, but he thought maybe he'd imagined seeing it there the night before. He didn't think so, though and it took less than a minute to check each room in the small cottage and see that she was no longer there.

He unceremoniously dumped his parcels on the table next to the leftovers from the previous night. He stared at his watch in disbelief. He was only gone for twenty minutes. Surely she wouldn't just get up and leave that fast unless it was some sort of emergency. Perhaps she decided to go out and get breakfast too. There was the possibility that she woke, saw him gone and was upset, and he didn't want to discount that. He did think it would be an overreaction for her to leave so quickly though. Only twenty minutes was an awfully short amount of time for her to get out of the house with. She also didn't clean up the mess from the night before, which didn't seem like her.

Draco decided to wait a bit just to see if she was off on some strange early morning. While he waited he cleaned up the kitchen. He perused through her bookshelves and walked outside to explore her back garden. After waiting for an hour he was finally convinced that she was not coming back home. Now Draco was hurt and upset wondering what he could have possibly done wrong to make her leave so fast. He decided to go home, take a shower, and then send her an owl to make sure she was all right.

* * *

Susan Mainwaring, Hermione's boss, slipped her head in the office to see the young woman bent over a stack of paperwork.

"You're here early. I wasn't expecting you until around nine." Susan let herself all the way in the office taking in Hermione's slightly dishevelled state and sullen face.

Hermione glanced up briefly from what she was writing as she responded. "I woke up early. I figured it would be a good idea to come in and get caught up on some paperwork, and respond to some owls."

"Hmm," Susan hummed as she settled into the chair across from Hermione. Hermione knew what was coming next. Susan was going to pry a little in her private life and then offer some motherly advice. It was not that Hermione didn't like or want Susan to treat her that way, it actually felt good since she was estranged from her own mother, but she didn't want to admit that there might be something wrong with her and Draco already.

"I thought you had a hot date last night," Susan continued. "I just figured that you would be far too tired to come in at," she glanced at the wall clock, "six thirty in the morning already hard at work."

Hermione blushed brightly at Susan's spot on insinuation. She definitely planned on still being in bed, but she wasn't planning on being asleep while she was there. Hermione still said nothing, and wrote another line on the letter she was working on.

"Aha! So, it was a good night? Why the sullen expression?"

Hermione sighed and put down her fountain pen again. "Let's just say it wasn't a good morning."

Susan leant forward in her chair a little bit so she could look up into Hermione's downturned face.

"Let me guess, great night in bed, but you woke up alone?"

Hermione sighed deeply. "Exactly."

"I wouldn't worry about it. My husband and I didn't spend a whole night together for weeks and we've been married twenty years. Granted we were both sneaking around, but oh, that was a horrible thing to say. I'm sure everything is fine; he is a man after all. They take longer to commit."

"I know," Hermione murmured. _But I thought it was different this time, and Draco has a history of this... _

Hermione picked up her quill again. "I really want to get caught up on all this so if you could have reception hold my mail and tell visitors I am busy, unless it is an emergency, I would appreciate it."

Susan left with a knowing smile. Around lunchtime Harry came into Hermione's office holding a greasy bag and a bottle of butter beer. Hermione had completely forgotten that they'd agreed to meet for lunch until he walked through the door.

"Oh, Harry! I completely forgot!" She was supposed to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron almost an hour ago.

"Right, I figured that. What's with the warden out there? Your reception wasn't going to let me in," Harry said as he plopped down in the seat across from Hermione. He was unfazed by the fact that she stood him up, it happened to both of them frequently when they were caught up with work, which was usually all it was. "I brought some of Tom's famous fish and chips."

"Oh, good. Comfort food," Hermione said her mouth watering. She moved her work aside and conjured place settings for the both of them and started pulling the food out of the bag. She was famished from not eating all day. "As far as not letting you in, that is my fault I wanted to be left alone today."

"Why?" Harry asked around a mouthful of potatoes. He took a careful look at Hermione and noticed that she was a bit off colour.

"No reason, I simply had work to catch up on." Hermione quickly took a bite to avoid having to say anything else.

Harry wasn't fooled. "Out with it, Hermione. I wasn't going to ask, but how was your date last night?"

"You ask as if my date has something to do with my catching up on work," she said after taking a long drink of the butter beer.

"Hermione, your door is always open, today it's closed. You only do that when you are upset, like when you found out your parents weren't moving back after you restored their memories," Harry replied gently. "Come on, I know you."

"Fine," she sighed giving in. "The date was fantastic, the whole night was fantastic, it was just this um, I don't want to give any details."

"You don't need to. Does this have something to do with what Eliza mentioned about the morning after?"

After a long pause she finally nodded feeling tears well up behind her eyes.

"That bastard," Harry swore.

"Harry!" Hermione admonished. "It's not really his fault. We haven't been together for long, and we never really talked about where things were going exactly, just that we knew we wanted to give it a chance. I think maybe I just need to take a step back and give him his space for a day or two."

Harry's mouth was set in a firm line. "Is that what you want?"

"Well, no, but I don't want to push him either. He's transitioning in his career and thinking about other things right now," Hermione wanted her to be one of the things he was thinking about. "Unclench, Harry. I admit I am a little sad he was gone when I woke this morning, but it really isn't the end of the world."

"I'd still like to give him a good hard shake." Harry drained the last of his butter beer and tossed the bottle in a neat arc across the room into Hermione's rubbish bin. "Seriously, Hermione, you aren't like Eliza or me for that matter. You know what you want, and you wouldn't have gone with Draco if you weren't willing to commit. Can you really be with him, and not have him feel the same level of commitment and be willing to show it?"

Hermione turned her face away from Harry and wiped away at a lonely tear as it trailed down her cheek.

"No, at least not for long."

* * *

Draco sent Hermione three owls during the course of the day and not a single answer was returned. He tried to visit her early in the afternoon at work, but the cretins working the afternoon shift wouldn't let him anywhere near her office. He lingered for a moment pretending he had to use the loo and was about to sneak past the desk when he saw Harry leaving her office. Draco quickly ducked back into the loo to avoid being seen by him. So, Potter was allowed to see her, but not him? After the night they'd just spent together Draco was really surprised. Apparently it didn't mean as much to her as he'd thought. Or, even worse, he really did frighten her and she wasn't ready for sex yet.

The afternoon sky had turned as dark and stormy as Draco's mood as he aimlessly walked the city's streets. After about an hour he settled onto a bench at the base of the Millennium Bridge just next to the City of London School. He sat for another hour more on the bench staring at, but not really seeing, the River Thames flow in front of him. The sky continued to get more threatening and kindly old man even stopped for a moment to rest his feet next Draco. After one particularly dangerous flash of lightning in the distance the man jumped up.

"Best be off, don't want to get in the storm. You ought to think about leaving as well, lad," he said congenially to Draco.

Draco grunted in response without even looking at the slightly put out old man. He walked away grumbling about how the kids are getting ruder and ruder every generation. The man did at least have the effect of bringing Draco back to the present. He'd spent his whole time walking and sitting thinking about what to do with Hermione. The solution was almost the same for whatever might be wrong. The fact that she'd ignored his owls was enough for him to keep his distance. It was really making him angry that she was. Obviously she was upset with him, considering it was she who didn't come back that morning. He could deal with her hurting him, but he would never forgive himself if he'd hurt her last night and she was too embarrassed or ashamed to talk to him about it. It did hurt, he admitted to himself. He was heartbroken. The ball was in her court though; he was going to wait for her to come to him.

Draco didn't get up to leave until the first of the raindrops fell quick and cold on his face. It didn't take long for the rain to turn into a downpour and even though he Apparated from the first alleyway he could find, he was still soaked through when arrived home.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, super short chapter I know, but this was a good place to leave it off I think. Only one more left, so I would love to hear your thoughts on what should be in it!! Thanks for all your reviews!**


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I am not JKR

Liberation

Chapter 15

It was three whole days before Hermione finally noticed that her kitchen had been cleaned. The mess from her divine date with Draco went awry was gone. She'd had spent the entire time immersed in her work and the only times she came up for air were to refill her coffee cup and grab something light to eat from the hospital's tearoom. After three days of not caring, she wasn't even sure why she was staring at her sparkling kitchen like it was a mystery, except for that she remembered specifically not cleaning it. Did Harry come and do it? She could not remember. Hermione opened the refrigerator to scrounge around for some fruit and saw the bakery bag that Draco had left. She yanked out and peered inside at the pastries frowning.

"I think I made a terrible mistake," she said to the open bag. It was beginning to dawn on her that perhaps Draco didn't intend to leave those three long and miserable days ago, but had only stepped out to bring her breakfast. And she had been avoiding all unnecessary mail and visitors at work. Hermione tossed the bag on her gleaming counter top and raced back to work to see if Draco had attempted to contact her during the three days she had refused visitors. If she had blown her chances with over a simple misunderstanding she was going to never forgive herself.

Hermione had never been so utterly and completely miserable in her life. Even the despair that was associated with her kidnapping was at least tampered with rage and survival instincts. Being without Draco just plain sucked and she missed him terribly.

When Hermione arrived at the hospital it was nearly deserted being the middle of night. Nobody was working her office wing's reception desk so it only took her a moment of rummaging to find her stack of non pressing mail. There were several letters from Draco. Hermione locked herself in her office and choked back her tears as she read each one.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope everything is well. I was surprised to see that you had left this morning when I stepped out to get us some breakfast. I could only assume you were called out for an emergency. I will stop by St. Mungo's to check in later today. I hope you don't find that presumptuous, but I was looking forward to seeing you this morning._

_Love, _

_Draco_

_P.S. I cleaned up the kitchen, hope it is okay_

_Hermione,_

_Your receptionist said you are busy and would not let me see you. I assume whatever work emergency called you away is keeping you busy. Please contact me as soon as you can._

_Draco._

And then finally,

_Hermione,_

_It has been two days now since I have seen you and I miss you already. I wish I knew what happened that made you leave so suddenly. I stopped by your house and haven't seen you there. I can only assume that you want your space and have no desire to see me right now. I regret whatever it is I did and hope in time you will forgive me. I will be waiting patiently._

_Yours always,_

_Draco_

"Oh, thank goodness!" Hermione cried fat tears of relief that blotted the ink on Draco's letter. "He didn't break up with me. I am such a fool! Damn Harry!"

Hermione pounded her fist on the table. She immediately thought of what Harry had told her and when Draco was gone and didn't even think, she only reacted. She was going to kill Harry. Writing Draco a return letter would be the simplest way to establish contact, but it did not feel appropriate after three solid days of snubbing him. He might have been forgiving yesterday, but that did not mean he was now, or would be tomorrow. Hermione was already beginning to feel convinced the relationship was over. Surely he was too.

Hermione went back home and tried to sleep, her only peace of mind coming from the fact the next day she was off work and would spend the whole thing trying to find Draco. The copy of the book he'd given rested next to her on the spare pillow.

* * *

Draco had done absolutely nothing of any importance since he last saw Hermione. The decision he'd made to give her space felt wrong. His intuition was telling him that it was not space she wanted and she was avoiding him specifically because of something he'd done. After not leaving his home for three days Draco finally managed to shower, shave, and get outside. He went to his office space in Diagon Alley and did some more nothing, growing increasingly frustrated when he saw Harry and Eliza strolling down the street below him outside the window. Not even bothering with doors he Apparated right in front of them.

"Potter," Draco said forcefully, and then slightly more politely he added, "Eliza."

"Malfoy," Harry responded bitterly. "What do you want?"

"Don't play games with me, Potter. Where is Hermione?"

Eliza extracted her arm from Harry's and moved away a few steps. "I will meet you in Three Broomsticks, Harry. See you, Draco."

Harry looked at her as if he didn't want her to go, but then thought better of it and waved her off. Draco blinked a few times in confusion before understanding what was going on.

"Are you two a couple now?" He demanded angrily.

"What's it to you, you just threw her aside," Harry snapped back.

Draco had the decency to appear guilty. "I had to. It never would have worked."

"And now you've gone and done the same thing to Hermione. Eliza told me that you couldn't commit, and it's true," Harry said under his breath. People were starting to stare as they faced each other in the middle of the street.

"I couldn't commit to her, Potter. That is not the same as unable to commit. I am in love with Hermione and now she won't even speak to me. You have to help me find her." Draco clenched his fist around his wand, not with the intent of using it, but just to have something to push his anger into. A jet of steam shot out the end, but they both ignored it.

Harry took a step closer to Draco and put a finger menacingly in his chest. "Why? So you can go sleeping with her and then disappearing again the morning like you always do? Hermione was finally happy, Malfoy and now she's more depressed than I've ever seen her. I can't let you hurt her anymore."

Draco knocked Harry's hand out of the way and took a step back as he processed his words. _Disappearing like I always do?_ Icy realisation clawed at his stomach. "What did Eliza tell you?"

Something in Draco's voice and expression compelled Harry to answer immediately and honestly. "She said she knew the end would come eventually because you never even spent the night. That you always found some excuse to leave in the morning so you wouldn't have to face that kind of intimacy."

Eliza did know exactly what was going on just as he'd suspected. "When did you tell Hermione this?"

Harry started to walk away, but Draco grabbed him.

"When did you tell Hermione this?" Draco shouted.

"While you were off in Egypt or whatever on your little treasure hunt, that's when. I love Hermione and I don't want to see her get hurt again. You rescued her so she has you on some sort of pedestal, but at the same time she truly cares for you. I know that I'm not meant to be with her, but that doesn't mean I have to believe she's fated to you like she does." Harry was getting red in the face and his own wand was out and in his hand. He practically growled at a few passersby who were slowing down to stare and they immediately put their heads down and moved on.

"I didn't leave that morning, Potter. I tried to sneak out to get her pastries from my favourite bakery so that I could serve her breakfast in bed. I was gone for less than twenty minutes, it wasn't even light outside yet and when I got back she was gone! How in the bloody hell am I supposed to be with her in the morning, if I can't even slip out of bed long enough to go to the fucking bathroom without convincing her I will never come back?" Draco kicked a rock on the street and sent it clattering down the stairs leading to the Apothecary door. "Damn it, Potter! Did you ever stop to think that maybe Hermione was the best thing that happened to _me_? That maybe she was saving me a little bit too?"

Draco turned his back on Harry and let a stream of fiery language that made a passing couple blush.

"Draco, I messed up," Harry said pocketing his wand and walking to Draco's side.

"Damn straight you did. And now you're going to help me fix it. I can't just walk up to her with flowers and my explanation after all this time and expect her to be satisfied. You're going to tell her that you were wrong in comparing my feelings for Hermione to my feelings for Eliza. Eliza is a great girl and I would have committed to her if I had to, but we wouldn't have been happy. Hermione is different, Harry. I feel like my heart doesn't even beat without her around," Draco's voice trailed off as he said that last bit to himself. He could cry he was so upset.

Harry scrubbed his hand up face and through his already rumpled hair. Maturity and a successful career did nothing to tame his hair. "What do you need me to do?"

"Meet me in the Three Broomsticks in three hours."

Draco strode off down the street without a backwards glance.

* * *

Hermione took extra care in getting ready before she went to find Draco. She didn't want him to see her with three long days of work grime on her skin and her hair a bushy mound on her head. The day was bright and summery and she dressed in a white summer dress and sandals and threw a green cardigan over the dress for luck. She applied generous amounts of hair slickening potion to her hair and a minimal amount of makeup to her face. When she looked in the mirror she almost looked normal. The only traces of her miserable week without her true love were the shadows in her eyes, the ones under them were concealed.

The first place Hermione looked for Draco was at his office. Nobody was there. She went to the Malfoy Manor, and he was not there. She tried his apartment in London, still not there. Hermione spent lunch at Ron and Pansy's house and messed up her makeup explaining to them what was going on, but neither of them had seen Draco in a couple of days either.

"Send him an owl," Ron quipped over a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Hermione and Pansy just scowled at him.

"You're so insensitive, dear," Pansy said handing Ron a napkin. "You can't just send an 'I'm sorry' owl; you have to go rushing in with some romantic gesture. It's much more appropriate to take the time to actually find the person. If he comes here, I will detain him and send you a message."

Hermione left her friends' house and stopped once more at Draco's home and office. There was still no sign of him. She walked around Diagon Alley for over an hour, even picking up a few supplies so as not appear purposeless, but she still never saw him. He was usually out and about on a daily basis. Hermione could recall seeing him plenty of times over the years going about his business in the busy wizarding district. Why of all days, did he have to pick this one to be nowhere? In the mid afternoon she gave up. She Apparated to a small park near her house and sat on the swing set for another hour and watched the sun as it slowly started to lower itself into the horizon. She didn't want to just owl him, but if that is what it was going to take to at least let him know she was looking for him, that's what she would do. He was probably furious with her.

Hermione walked the last quarter of a mile to her cottage fighting tears and thinking she was going to curl up on her couch with a good book and a bottle of wine and try to forget the day, but Harry was sitting on her stoop alone. He jumped up when he found her and put his arms around her.

"I've been trying to find you all day. We really need to talk."

"Harry, I don't really feel like talking. I just won't to go home." The threatening tears finally spilled over and she swiped at them angrily, not wanting to weep anymore.

Harry grabbed her arm and steered her away from the house. "It is a nice night, Hermione. Just give me fifteen minutes and then I will let you go home. I have to talk to you about Draco."

"I blew it with Draco, Harry," Hermione said as she gave in and let him lead her away. "I found breakfast in my refrigerator yesterday and he'd written letters that I ignored at work. He wasn't trying to leave me that morning he was making me breakfast in bed and I panicked. I panicked because of you!"

She punched Harry in the arm hard.

"That's what I needed to talk to you about, Hermione. I was wrong to tell you that. Even if I was worried about it happening I should have kept it to myself. Malfoy's feelings for you aren't necessarily what they were for Eliza and it was mean and unfair of me to make it that way." Harry rubbed at his arm where it was going to bruise not noticing that Hermione had stopped walking until he was three steps ahead of her.

"Where did you see Draco?"

"What?" he asked turning around feigning innocence.

Hermione drew her wand and advanced on Harry. "Tell me where and when you saw him. There is no way you would have had such a sudden change of heart unless you spoke to him. I have been looking for him all day, Harry so that I could apologise. Where is he?"

"I don't know where he is now. And how do you know it wasn't Eliza who made me realise what a fool I've been?" Harry bit his tongue knowing that the first bit of what he said gave him away.

"When did you see him?" Hermione demanded again jabbing her wand in his chest.

"In Diagon Alley, this morning around lunch time. I was there with Eliza going to eat with her during my break and he found me." Harry raised his hands up and backed away from her.

"Did he tell you he was going to find me?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Harry looked at his watch quickly and stepped around Hermione's arm so he could gently push her wand hand down. "He was really angry with me after I admitted I talked to you about his past with Eliza. I don't think he wanted to tell me much else. I should probably get back to work. I am doing a double shift today, and I have been waiting here for you for awhile. Maybe you should just owl him and tell him you want to talk, he really wants to see you, he'll respond."

"I don't want to owl him," Hermione said stamping her foot. She turned away from Harry without another word and started stalking back to her house.

"Hermione!" Harry called after her jogging to catch up. "I really am sorry, and well I'm happy for you."

He backed away and Disapparated before Hermione could say anything else.

Hermione looked at the spot where he was standing for a few seconds dazed by his odd behaviour. She shook it off and turned to open her door and when she did the first thing she noticed was the smell. Hundreds of flowers were scattered all over the lower level of her cottage. There were daisies, tulips, tiger lilies, and rare orchids spread all over the living room and kitchen filling the cottage with the scent of a botanical garden in the summer time.

She walked around touching them and bringing individual flowers to her nose. Looking around she couldn't see a note anywhere to tell her who they were from, but she knew in her gut they were from Draco. Her heart swelled as she followed the trail of flowers into the kitchen and saw even more. She was forgiven. Her kitchen door leading to her small back garden was standing open and Hermione could see more flowers and flickering candlelight from hundreds of candles scattered about. The light from the candles mingled with the few stars that were peaking out of the clear dark blue sky. Hermione gasped at how beautiful the effect was and she stepped outside her heart hammering loudly in her chest.

A small table had been set up and there were to champagne flutes and a bottle of Tete du **Cuvée sitting in front of a silver tray with a matching dome covering its contents**. Hermione's well trained eye for liquors recognised the expensive bottle of **Champagne Henriot Brut made by the Cuvée des Enchanteleurs. It was very expensive champagne meant to be drunk with expensive aphrodisiac like foods such as oysters on the half shell and scallops. Hermione lifted the dome and nodded her appreciation. Just as she expected there was fresh seafood on the tray. It looked mouth watering and Hermione then only realised how little she'd eaten in the last few days. **Hermione muttered something aloud about the quality of the set up.

"One of my favourite things about you is that you have exquisite taste."

Hermione turned towards the sweet voice that caused her breath to hitch in her throat. Draco was standing beside her, the moon his back drop causing him to appear like a silhouette in his dark suit. His blond hair the only thing lighter than the lunar orb behind him.

"Draco, I'm so sorry,"

"Hush," he said stepping up to her and placing a finger on her lips. "Don't say anything. We had an awful misunderstanding thanks to Potter, and I want to leave it at that. Tonight I want to show you that I will never leave you, no matter what."

Draco took Hermione's hand in his and raised it to his lips. "You look beautiful."

Hermione self-consciously pushed at her hair and wiped at the makeup smudges under her eyes.

"I mean it, Hermione. You're perfect." Draco leaned in close and lightly pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione didn't say anything. Her breath was hitching in her throat and she was positive her voice box would fail her if she attempted to make a sound.

"I want to show you something," Draco said and he pulled a small box out of his pocket. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as he opened, but inside it was the mangled remains of the jewelled hair comb she was wearing when she'd been kidnapped.

"Where did you find that?" Hermione asked taking it from him to examine. "What happened to it?"

"I picked it up off the floor at the castle where you were being held captive. I slipped it into my pocket thinking I would give it back to you someday. This was before I sent you away with the Portkey," Draco said stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "After you left Harry and I were trying to clean up the mess and Goyle hit me with a Killing Curse. I think you saw that bit just before you disappeared and nobody really told you how I survived. This is how. The curse hit your hair comb destroying it, but protecting me. It actually melted through my pants and stuck into my hip, but the healers were able to take care of that without any scarring. That's why you wouldn't have seen it that night."

Hermione was truly moved by the story, but she couldn't help but wonder why he was telling her.

"You saved my life that day, as surely as I may have saved yours. I kept the hair comb to remember because it felt symbolic. You know how I feel about symbolism."

Hermione nodded choking up.

"I looked at that comb every day. I carried it around with me in my pocket, and I would see it even when I was with Eliza and I knew I couldn't be with her because it was you, always you. I made a mistake leaving that morning, but it was only to get breakfast, and then you were gone, and my heart broke."

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, Draco," Hermione said feeling tears fill her eyes for the millionth time that week.

"Shh, it isn't your fault." Draco kissed away her tear. "I had a history; I am just sorry you didn't hear it from my own lips so that I might explain myself."

Draco bent down on one knee in front of Hermione and pulled another small box out of his pocket. This time Hermione literally stopped breathing as she realised what he was about to do. She placed her hands on her chest and felt her heart slamming against her sternum.

"I know this is soon, but nothing I have done with you has felt wrong yet. I need you, I want you, you have liberated me from every fear I have ever had. I want to love you and make love to you every day for the rest of my life. I want to know that if I sneak out to get you a chocolate croissant you won't be able to run away because your bed will be my bed. Hermione, will you marry me?"

Draco opened the box to show a stunning square cut diamond sitting on a plain platinum band. It was absolutely exquisite in its simplicity.

"Oh, Draco." Hermione was crying freely now, unable to stop the tears of joy. "Yes, of course, yes!"

Draco slipped the ring on her finger and pulled her up so that he could kiss her, their tears of joy mingling on each other's faces.

The couple sipped champagne, ate rich food, and made love late into the night, both of their pasts slipping away to make room for the future.

The End

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**There it is the final chapter. I am so sorry this story took so long to finish, but the death of my mother and working on another story kind of made it difficult for me to write. It was supposed to be a much shorter story, but I got a little carried away. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed! There are parts of this chapter showing up in bold on and I don't know why. Just ignore it, it doesn't mean anything. **


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